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Who wrote Cavendish's Life of Wolsey} 
A Dissertation. By The Rev. Joseph Hunter, 
F.S.A ix 



Prologue 3 

Cardinalis Eboracensis (Wolsey) 9 

Viscount Biocheford 20 

Henry Norris «..«... 26 

Francis Weston 30 

William Breretota ^ 

Mark Sndeeton • 36 

Queen Anne Boleyn • 39 

Mors Divers. Personarum ^ .k...*.! 48 

Cromwell. Earl of Essex ^ * • .« 61 

Markes of Exeter. Lord Montagu ..*« «« 66 

L'Envoy de TAuctor • 61 

Queen Katherine Howard • 64 

Cttlpeper •«• .^ *«»m*«.«»..«».*4*.»«m.«4..«u»«. 68 

Viscountess B.ociieford •««••»..« ••* i.w^.^.^^^m. 71 



Couatess of Salisbury • W 

The Earl of Surrey 80 

L'Envoy de TAuctor 86 

Henricus Rex loquens ad Mortem 01 

Death of Henry VIII : 100 

Epitaph on King Henry VIII 101 

Lord Seymour 104 

The Duke of Somerset 114 

Sir Thomas Arundel 125 

Sir Michael Stanhope 127 

Sir Rafe Vane. Sir Miles Partridge 129 

UAuctorin Mortem Edwardi VI 130 

L*Auctorin Laudem Regine Marie • 136 

Duke of Northumberland , 141 

Duke of Suflfolk..- 149 

Lady Jane Gray 156 

An E^itaphe on the late Queene Marie 163 

Th' Auctor to his Booke 170 

End of the Metrical Vuions. 


Extracts from tre Life of Anne Boleione. 
BY George Wy ATT, Esq. Son of Sir Thomas 


Six Letters, supplementary to the above Memoir; 
containing Particulars of the Arrest of Queen Anne 
Boleyn, and her Behaviour while in the Tower. 

letter I. 

Sir WiUiam KinffsUm to Secretary OromweU. — Upon 

Queen Anne's Committal to the Tower 219 




Sir WiUiam Kijigston to Secretary Cromwell, — On 

Queen Anne*8 Behaviour in Prison 221 


Sir William Kingston to Secretary Cromwell — ^Further 
Particulars. ••.. ...224 


Edward Baynton to the Lord Treasurer. — Declaring 
that only Mark will confess any Thing against 
Queen Anne 225 


Sir William Kingston to Secretary Cromwell, May 16, 
1536. — Upon the Preparations for the Execution of 
Lord Rochford and Queen Anne •«... 226 


Sir William Kingston to the same, — ^Upon the same 
Subject 228 

A Parallel between Cardinal Wolsey and 
Akchbishop Laud, first printed in 1641. 281 

The Will of Thomas Wolsey, Father to the Cardinal... 244 





Ifejtry Percy ^ Earl of Northumberland, to hii Bedfellow 
and Cotyn Thomas Arundel. — Complains of Inju- 
ries receiyed at the Hands of Cardinal Wolsey. 
Humble Solicitations for his Favour in certain 
Matters 246 


J%e game to Secretary CromwelL — Denying a Contract, 
or Promise of Marriage, having ever existed be- 
tween Anne BoUeyn and himself 249 


Queen Catherine of Arragon and King Henry VIII. to 
Cardinal Wolsey. — A joint Letter, about the coming 
of'the Legate, and Expressions of Kindness 250 


Anne Bokyn to Cardinal IfbZfey.— Thanking hira for 
his diligent pains in the Affiiir of the Divorce 252 


The same to the same. — The same Subject; and the 

Coming of the Legate • • 254 

Cardinal Wolsey, in his Distress, to Thomas CromweU... 255 

Cardinal Wolsey to Secretary Gardener 257 




The iame to the same. — ^The miserable Condition he is 
in, his Decay of Health, and Poverty, and desiring 
some Belief at the Sang*s Hands. A melancholy 
Picture, 261 

The same to the same, — Desiring Gardener to write and 
give him an Account of the King*s Intentions in 
regard to him 263 

The same to the same. — ^Requesting Gardener to expeditei 
the Making out his Pardon in large and ample Form 
as granted by the King 265 

n^e same to the same, — In favour of the Provost of 
Beverley, and desiring Gardener to intercede with 
the King for his Colleges 267 

The same to the same. — Desiring his Favour in a Suit 
against him for a Debt of £700. by one Strangwish 269 

Lettre de M. de Bellay Evesque de Bayonne d M. le 
Grant Maistre, 17 Oct. 1629.— Containing an in- 
teresting Picture of the Cardinal in his Troubles, 
and desiring the Intercession of the King of France, 
&c. in his Favour 271 

Thomas Alvard to Thomas Oromwett.— Containing a ge- 
nuine Picture of one of the last Interviews with 
which Wolsey was favoured by Henry VIIIm 282 



Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, Notice of his Book against 
the Divorce of Henry and Catherine of Arragon ••• 277 

The Schedule appended to the King's Gift to the Car- 
* dinal after his Forfeiture by the Premunire 2B0 

A Memoryall of such Communication as my Lorde 
Legatts Grace had with the Queenes Almoner. — 
Containing a circumstantial Account of Queen 
Katherine*s Objections to have her Cause finally 
judged by the Legates, &c • 286 

Itinerary of Cardinal Wolsey's last Journey to the 

North 294 

The Comming and Resey ving of the Lord Cardinall into 
Powles for the Escaping of Pope Clement YII. 
A. D. 1527. A« Regni Henrici VIII. xix* 297 

The Ceremonial of receiving the Cardinal's Hat, sent 
by the Pope to Wolsey ; 301 



Jo^fei^ftV n)Avv\e.Y 


" Yet no man remembered that same poor man/' 



When a writer undertakes ix> give cuique 
sMum in a questioii of literary property^ if 
he would avoid the ridicule which they de- 
servedly incur who raise a controversy only 
that they may have the honour of settling it^ 
he must show that there are more claimants 
than one on the property he means to assign. 

This then will be our first object. 

Let the reader tarn to the ^ Biographia Bri- To whom 
tannica^^ and look out the article ^ Sir William DUa attn^ 
Cavendish/ He will find in either of the 
editions what follows in the words of Dr. 
Campbell^ the crriginal projector of that work, 
or rather of his friend Mr. Morant, the histo- 
rian of Essex^ for it does not appear that 
the later editors have either reconsidered the 
article^ or added to it any thing material. 
Sir William Cavendish, we are told, ^had a 
liberal education given him by his father, 
who settled upon him also certain lands in 
the county of Suffolk; but made a much bet- 
ter provision for him by procuring him to be 


admitted into the family of the great Cardinal 
Wolsey, upon whom he waited in quality of 

gentleman usher of his chamber.'* ^As 

Mr. Cavendish was the Cardinal's country- 
man^ and the Cardinal had a great kindness 
for his father^ he took him early into his con- 
fidence^ and showed him upon all occasions 
very particular marks of kindness and re- 
spect'.'' Several extracts from the Life of 
Wolsey cure then produced to show the ho- 
nourable nature of this employment. Mr. 
Cavendish's faithful adherence to Wolsey in 
his fall receives due encomium: and we are 
then favoured with a detail of Mr. Caven- 
dish's public services after the Cardinal's 
deaths his rich rewards, his knighthood, mar- 
riages, and issue, in which the writer of the 
article has followed Sir William Dugdale, 
and the Peerages. Towards the conclusion 
Cavendish is spoken of in his character of 
an author, a character which alone could 
entitle him to admission into that temple of 
British worthies. We are told that ^ he ap- 
pears from his writings to have been a niau 
of great honour and integrity, a good subject 
to his prince, a true lover of his country, and* 
one who preserved to the last a very high 

f Kippis's Edit, tol, iii. p. 321. 


reverence and esteem for his old master and 
first patron Cardinal Wolsey, whose life he 
wrote in the latter part of his oum, and there 

gives him a very high character.'' ^^This 

work of his remained long in manuscript^ 
and the original some years ago was in the 
hands of the Duke of Kingston^ supposed to 
be given by the author to his daughter^ who 
married into that family. It had been seen 
and consulted by the Lord Herbert when he 
wrote his history of the Reign of King Henry to whom, 
Vni., but he was either unacquainted withyj^ 
our author's Christian name^ or mistook him 
for his elder brother George Cavendish of 
Glemsford in the county of Suffolk^ Esq. for 
by that name his lordship calls him: but it 
appears plainly from what he says that the 
hii^tory Jie made use of was our author's.'' 
p. 324. 

Such is the reputation in which the Biogra- 
phia Britannica is held in the world, and in- 
deed not undeservedly, that most writers of 
English biography have recourse to it for 
information: and with its authority those 
among them are usually well satisfied, who 
neither value, nor are willing to undertake, 
the toilsome researches of the genealogist and 
the antiquary. Another such work, for an 
illustrious class of English worthies, is ^The 


Peerage of Bngland/ hegfm by the respecta- 
ble and ill rewarded Arthur Collins^ and con- 
tinned by snccessive editors with as much 
exactness as conld reasonably have been ex- 
Towhom pected. The several editions of tttis work, 
ages. from that of 1712^ in one volume^ to that of 
1812^ in nine^ contain the same account of Sir 
William Cavendish's attendance upon Wol- 
sey^ of his tried attachment to him^ and of his 
lasting gratitude to the memory of his old 
master^ displayed in writing apologetical me- 
moirs of his life. At the very opening of 
the pages devoted to the Devonshire family^ 
in the recent edition of this work> we are 
told that ^ the potent and illustrious family of 
Cavendish^ of whieh^ in the last century^ two 
branches arrived at dukedoms^ laid the foun- 
dation of their future greatness^ firsts on the 
share of abbey lands obtained at the dissolu- 
tion of monasteries by iSSr William Cavendish^ 
who had been gentleman usher to Cardinal 
Wolsey^ who died in 1557^ and afterwards 
by the abilities^ the rapacity^ and the good 
fortune of Elizabeth his widow, who remar- 
ried George Earl of Shrewsbury, and died in 
1607^.^ And afterwards, in the account of 
the said Sir William Cavendish, we are told 

* Vol. i. p. 302. 

cavendish's wotSEY? xvii 

nearly in the words ased by Morant, that ^ to 
give a more lasting testimony of his grati- 
tude to the Cardinal^ he drew up a fair ac- 
count of his life and death, which he wrote in 
the reign of Queen Mary: whereof the oldest 
copy is in the hands of the noble family of 
Pierrepoint, into which the author's daughter 
was married. Lord Herbert of Cherbury , in the 
Life and Reign of King Henry VIIL, quotes 
the manuscript in many places, hut mentions 
George Cavendish to he the author of it; 
whichj from divers circumstances^ we niakf 
conclude to he a mistake. In the year 1641 
it was printed, and again in 1667^.'' A full 
account is then given of the public employ- 
ments and honourable rewards of Sir William 
Cavendish; and the descent of the two ducal 
families of Devonshire and Newcastle from 
this most fortunate subject is set forth with 
all due regard to genealogical accuracy. 

From these two great public reservoirs ofsirwaiiam 
English biography this account of Sir Wil- geJeraUy 
liam Cavendish, both as an author and a man, to ^"hT 
has been drawn off into innumerable other*'* °'' 
works. Writers of high authority in affairs 
of this nature have adopted it; and even his- 
torians of the life of Wolsey, upon whom it 

3 Vol. i. p. 314. 
VOL. II. b 



appeared to be incambent to make accurate 
mquiry into this subject^ have retailed us 
unqiiestioned truth what the Biogrs^hia and 
the Peerages have told us conceming an au« 
thor to whose most faithful and interesting 
narrative they have been so largely indebted. 
Sir William Cavendish may therefore be re- 
garded as the tenant in possession of this 
property: nor^ as far as I know^ hath his 
but erron©. right ever been formally controverted. Be- 
fore the reader has got to the last page of 
this little treatise he will probably have seen 
reason to conckide that this account is all 
fable: for that Sir William Cavendish conld 
not possibly have been the Cardinal's biogra- 
pher^ nor^ of course^ die faithful attendant 
upon him; that circumstance of his history 
proceeding entirely upon the supposition that 
he was the writer of the work in question ^ 

While we have thus brought before the 
public the person who may be considered as 
the presumed proprietor of this work, we have 
also made good our promise to show that 
there are more claimants than one upon this 
piece of literary property. Lord Herbert, 
we have seen, quotes the manuscript as the 

^ See the marginal references in the Biographia and the 


production of a George Cavendish. OtberAthird 
writers of no mean authority, as will be seen 
in the course of this disquisition^ have attri-^ 
buted it to another member of the house of 
Cavendish whose name was Thomas. 

Hie editors of the Biographia and the Peer- 
ages have made very light of my Lord Her- 
bert's testimony. What those divert circmnr 
stances were which led the latter to reject it, 
as they have not informed us, so we must be 
content to remain in ignorance. The nobia 
historian of the life and reign of Henry VHI. 
ia not accustomed to quote his authorities at 
random. If he sometimes endeavour too much 
to palliate enormities which can neither be 
excused nor softened down, he is nevertiie- 
less generally correct as to the open fact, 
as he is always ingenious and interesting. 
Supported by so respectable an authority, 
the pretensions of this George Cavendish of 
Glemsford to have been the faithful attendant 
upon Wolsey, and the lively historian of his 
rise and fall, ought to have received a more 
patient examination. Descended of the same 
parents with Sir William, and by birth th^ 
elder, in fortune he was far behind him. At 
a period of great uncertainty the two bro- 
thers took opposite courses. William was for 
reform, George for existing circumstances. 



Contrary to the ordinary course of events/ 
the first was led to wealth and honours^ the 
latter left in mediocrity and obscurity. The 
former yet lives in a posterity not less distin- 
guished by personal merit than by the splen- 
dour cast upon them by the highest rank in 
the British peerage, the just reward of meri- 
torious services performed by a race of pa- 
triots their ancestors. Of the progeny from 
the other, history has no splendid deeds to 
relate ; and, after the third generation, they 
are unknown to the herald and the antiqusuy. 
But this is to anticipate. I contend that the 
wreath which he has justly deserved, who 
produces one of the most beautiful specimens 
of unaffected faithful biography that any Ian* 
guage contains, has been torn from this poor 
man's brow, to decorate the temples of his 
more fortunate brother. To replace it is the 
George Ca- objcct of the present publication. It will, I 
real author, trust, bc showu, to the satisfactiou of the 
reader, that this George Cavendish was the 
author of the work in question, and the dis- 
interested attendant upon the fallen favourite* 
The illustrious house of Devonshire needs no 
borrowed merit to command the respect and 
admiration of the world. 

Let it not however be supposed that the 
writer is meaning to arrogate to himself the 


credit of being the first to dispute the right 
of Sir William Cavendish, ^nd to advance 
the claim of the real owner. The possession 
which Sir William has had has not been an 
undisturbed one : so that were there any sta- 
tute of limitations, applicable to literary pro- 
perty, that statute would avail him nothing. Writers 
The manuscript of this work, which now forms advwiced 
a part of the Harleian library, is described by 
the accurate Wanley as being from the pen waniey. 
of a George Cavendish \ In 1742 and the 
two following years, ^ A History of the Life 
and Times of Cardinal Wolsey' was pub- 
lished in four volumes octavo by Mr. Joseph 
Grove, who subjoined, in the form of notes. Grove. 
the whole of what was then known to the 
public of these Memoirs; describing them in 
a running title, ^The Secret History of the 
Cardinal, by George Cavendish, Esq.:' but, 
as if to show that no one who touched this 
subject should escape defilement from the 
errors of the Biographia and the Peerages, 
he confounds together the two brothers in 
the account he gives of the author at the 98th 
page of his third volume. During the re- 
mainder of the last century it does not appear 
that Sir William Cavendish suffered any ma- 
terial molestation in his possession of this 

5 Catalogue Harl. MSS. No. 428. 


property: but in the present century Mr. 

Douce. Francis Douce^ in his most curious ^ Illustra- 
tions of Shakspeare/ restores to George Ca* 
vendish the honour of having produced this 
work^ and marks by significative Italics that 
it was an honour which another had usurped ^ 

woMte- Dr. Wordsworth may also be ranked amongst 
those writers who have ventured to put a 
spade into Sir William's estate* To ibis 
gentleman belongs tiie merit of having first 
presented to the public an in^ession of this 
work, which conveys any just idea of the 
original ^ In an advertisement he expresses 
himself thus cautiously as to the name of the 
author: ^The following life was written by 
the Cardinal's gentleman-usher^ Cavendish^ 
whose Christian name in the superscription 
to some of the manuscript copies is Oeargey 
but by Bishop Kennet, in his Memoirs of 

^ Vol. ii. p. 51. 

7 In his 'Ecclesiastical Biograplij'; or, Liyes of eminetit 
Men connected With iht History of Religion in England,' 6 Y<ds« 
8yo. a useful and valuable collection. Dr. Wordsworth very 
properly rejected the parenthesis, ** at which time it was appa^ 
rent that he had poisoned himself,'' which had been introduced 
into the printed copies without the authority of the msinuscripts. 
The editor of the Censura Idteraria once intimated his intentioii 
to prepare an edition of this work. (C. L. iii. 372.) How could 
the press of Lee Priory, of whose powers we have had so many 
£Etvoarable specimens, have been more worthily engaged ikan 
in producing a correct edition of this valuable piece of antiqua- 
rain lore, — except in favouring the public with more of its aUe 
director's own feeling and beautiful essays? 


flie famify of GaTendish^ by Collins in bis 
Peerage, and by Dr. Birch (No. 4233, Aysr 
Goagh's Catalogue Brit Museum) be is called 
WilKam^.^ Had tbe learned editor pursued 
&e question tbus started, it is probable be 
would hare been led to tbe conclusion which 
will here be brought out, and have thus ren- 
dered wholly unnecessary the disquisition 
now tendered to the notice of the public. 
But here he has suffered the matter to rest. 
: And indeed, to say the truth, though there Doabi^ of 
may possibly have been two or three other cavendis^s 
writers who have iutimated a doubt as to the woa^^ 
right (rf Sir William Cavendiah to the work ^^^ the 
in question, these doubts seem never to have ^*''^^' 
gained hcdd on the public attention. It i^ould 
be an invidkms task to coUeot together the 
many modem supporters of his claim: there 
are, amongst thern^ names who have deserv- 
edly attained a high degree of celebrity in 
flie walks of biography, history, antiquities, 
and topography. All the writer wishes is, 
that he may stand excused with the public 
in offering what he has collected upon this 
point: and if the concession is made that 
the suspicions of Sir William Cavendish's 
right to this piece of biography have never 
gained much hold on the public mind, and 

■ « I . I 1 ...«..,« ■ >..^- -.i. <■-■ .. . ,1.. .ill, M ■■ « ■■».i j . > »«i« » < .. i i» n > 

« Vol. i. p. S81. 


that it is a prevailing opinion in the world 
that the greatness in which we now behold 
the house of Devonshire owes its origin to a 
train of fortunate circomstances resulting out 
of an attendance on Cardinal Wolsey^ he 
miist consider himself as amply excused. 
Let us now hear the evidence. 
Authorities The learned editor of the ^Ecclesiastical 
voor. Biography' has mentioned several names as 
supporters of Sir William's claim. And in- 
deed, if names might carry the day, Kennet 
and Collins, Birch and Morant, are in them- 
selves a host. But who is there accustomed 
to close and minute investigation, that has 
not discovered for himself, of how little mo- 
ment is simple authority in any question? It 
is, especially, of little weight in historical and 
antiquarian discussion. The most laborious 
may sometimes overlook evidence which is 
afterwards accidentally discovered to another 
of far inferior pretensions: the most accurate 
may mistake : the most faithful may be bribed 
into inattention by supposititious facts, which 
give a roundness and compactness to what, 
without them, forms but an imperfect narra- 
tion. The case before us may possibly come 
under the latter head. Take away the at- 
tendance upon Wolsey, and we have several 
years unaccounted for in the life of Sir William 
Cavendish; and lose what the mind perceives 


to be a step by which a private gentleman^ 
as he was^ might advance himself into the 
oooncils of princes^ and the possession of 
important offices of state. There is in this 
what might lay a general biographer^ who 
was a very Argus^ asleep. But these au- 
thorities^ it must also be observed, are all 
modems: they lived a century and a half au modem, 
after both the Cavendishes had been gathered 
to their fathers: and earlier biographers, who 
have made mention of this founder of two 
ducal houses, have said nothing of any at- 
tendance upon the Cardinal, never ascribed 
the flourishing state of his fortunes to any * 
recommendation of him to the king from his 
old master, nor taken any notice of what is 
so much to his honour, that he adhered faith- 
fully to Wolsey in his fall, and produced this 
beautiful tributie to his memory. Negative 
evidence of this kind, it may be said, is of 
no great weight. It will be allowed, how- 
ever, to be of some, when it is recollected 
who they are that have omitted these leading 
particulars in Sir William Cavendish's history. 
They are no other tban the author of ^ The Dugdaie 
Baronage of England,' and Margaret Duchess DucheL of 
of Newcastle, who has given a laboured ge- doTotU 
nealogy of the ancestors and kindred of her £ii. ^^^ 
lord, a grandson of Sir William Cavendish, 


annexed to the very entertaining memoirs 
which she left of his life. The omissiofiM 
of two soch writers^ living at the time when 
tills woiis: was first made public^ and whcNie 
duty as well as inclination it would have 
been to have mentioned the fact^ had it been 
so^ will at least Bearve to weigh against the 
positive bnt unsupported testimonies of the 
abovementioned respectable writers^ all of 
whom lived much too late to be supposed to 
have received any information by private trar 
Theoriginai But the Original manuscript was in the 
heb^ hands of the Pierrepoint family^ and into that 
the Pierre- family Sir William Cavendish's daughter was 
^^mtfami- ^^j^^^^ PossiWyj but Were it even so, it 
is obvious that this lays but a very insufficient 
foundation for believing that Sir William 
was the author. Why might it not have 
been given to Frances Cavendish by George 
Cavendish her uncle? But Doctor Kennet, 
upon whose authority this statement has been 
made, has not informed us by what criterion 
he was guided in assigning that priority to 
the Pierrepoint manuscript which this state- 
ment assumes. There are so many manu- 
scripts of this work abroad, that it must, I 
presume, be exceedingly difficult to decide 
which has the best claim to be the author's 


autography if iiideecl that autograph be m 
eacistence*. Scarcely any work of this mdg- 
fiitude^ composed after the invention of prints 
ing, has been so often transcribed. There is 
a copy in the cathedral library at York which Mann- 
once lielonged to Archbishop Matthew; aa-*^^**' 
other very valcuible one in the library of the 
College of Arms, presented to that learned 
society by Henry Duke of Norfolk; another 
in Mr. Donee's collection; another in the 
public library at Cambridge; another in the 
Bodleian. There are two in Mr. Heber^s 
library; two at Lambeth; two in the British 
Museum*\ The reason of this multiplication retscmfor 
of copies by the laborious process of tran* pucation. 
scription, seems to have been this : the work 
was composed in the days of Queen Mary 
by a zealous catholic, but not committed to 

The reader will bear in mind fhattlas passage was writteii 
in 1814, when the writer could not, for obvious reasons, have 
been ac<]^ainted wi^ iSke claims of Mr. Lloyd's manuscript, 
to be considered as the original autograph of the author. I will 
here take occasion to observe that, to the manuscripts enu- 
merated abote, two more may be added, described in the pre^ 
face to the Life, which are in tiie possession of the writer of this 
note. S. W. S. 

*^ It appears by the Catalogus MSS. Anglie that ikere were 
two copies in the library of Dr. Henry Jones, rector of Sun- 
ningwell in Berks, both in folio: and a third also in folio among 
the MSS. of the Ker. Abraham Be la Prynie, F. R. & of Thome 
in Yorkshire. There was a copy in the very curious library 
formed about the middle of the last century by Dr. Cox Macro 
at bis house, Nortpn near St. Edmund's Bury. 


the press during her short reign. It con- 
tained a very favourable representation of the 
conduct of a man who was held in but little 
esteem in the days of her successor^ and 
whom it was then almost treason to praise. 
The conduct of several persons was reflected 
on who were flourishing themselves^ or in 
their immediate posterity, in the court of 
Queen Elizabeth: and it contained also the 
freest censures of the Reformation, and very 
strong remarks upon the conduct and charac- 
ter of Anne Boleyn, the CardinaPs great 
enemy. It is probable that no printer could 
• be found who had so little feai* of the Star- 
Ghamber before his eyes as to venture the 
publication of a work so obnoxious: while 
such was the gratification which aU persons of 
taste and reading would find in it, from its 
fidelity, its curious minuteness, its lively de- 
tails, and above all, from that unaffected air 
of sweet natural eloquence in which it is 
composed, that many among them must have 
been desirous of possessing it. G^ we won- 
der then that so many copies should have 
been taken between the time when it was 
written and the year 1641, when it was first 
sent to the press : or that one of these copies 
should have found its way into the library of 
Henry Pierrepoint, Marquis of Dorchester, 


who was an author^ and a man of some taste 
and learning"? It cannot surely be difficult 
to divine how it came into his possession^ 
without supposing that it was brought Into his 
family by Sir William's daughter, his grand- 
mother, Frances Cavendish. 

Trifling as it appears, we have now had 
nearly all that has ever been alledged as ren- 
dering it probable that Sir William Caven- 
dish was the author of this work. We have 
no evidence in his favour from toy early Noevi- 
catalogue of writers in English history: norf^^^w 
any testimony in inscription or titie upon any***®^*^^- 
of the manuscripts, except a modern one by 
Dr. Birch, upon one of the Museum copies. 
Biit in appropriating any literary composition 
to its author, that evidence is the most cour 
elusive which is derived from the work itself. 
This is the kind of proof to which it is pro- 
posed to bring the claims of the two compe- 
titors. It is contended that there are pas- 
sages in the work, and self-notices, which are 
absolutely inconsistent with the supposition 
that it was the production of the person to 
whom it has usually been ascribed. Let us 
attend to these. 

It will be of some importance to us to have Time when 

the work 
warf writ- 

" See the 'Royal and Noble Authors/ p. 202. and Fasti 
Oxon. vol. ii. col. 706, ed. 1692. 


clearly asoertaiaed the period at which this 

work was composed. We have information 

♦p. 40 in sufficient for this pm-pose. At paffe 350* of Dr- 

the present . * o 

edition. Wordswortii's impression^ we read that Ihe 

Cardinal ^^ was sent twice on an embassage 

unto the Emperor Chaides the Fifth that now 

reignethy and father unto King Philip, now 

our soveraign lord.'' Mary qneen of Ei^Iand 

was married to Philip of Spain on flie 25th 

of July, 1554 Again, at page 401, we hear 

of ^ Mr. Ratcliffe, who was sonne and heire 

♦intheAu-to the Lord Fitz waiter, and nowef Earle of 

KS??' Sussex.** The Earl of Sussex of Queen Mary's 

E^i ofs^ reign, wto had been son and heir to a Lord 

n/iJ^; Fitzwalter in the days of King Henry VIIL 

g^T'*^- could be no other than Henry RadcKffe, the 

second earl of that name, who died on the 

17th of February, 1557 ^\ Without incurring 

cmy risk by following older authorities, when 

so much misconception is abroad, we may 

set down as fairly proved that the Life of 

Wolsey was composed about the middle of 

the reign of Queen Mary ^^ 

'* MiHes's Catalogue of Honour, p. 667. 

A supposed *' The reader will, it is hoped, excuse 'the minvienest of this 

anachom- inquiry, W^ have enough to teach us to take nothing upon 

*^. ®*- trust tibat has been said concerning this work : and some doubts 

p aine * ^^^^ y^^^ expressed as to the period at which it was written, 

grounded on a passage near the conclusion. Cavendish tells 

us that when tile Cardinal left the hoq>itable mansion of the 

Earl of Shrewsbury at Sheffield, on the borders of Yorkshire, 

cAVEifmisa^s woiiSEY? xxxi 

Now we may collect that the author^ who- The author 

., ii*i/» T -B a neglected 

ever he was^ thoaght himself a neglected man man. 
at ^ time of writing. He tells us that he 
engaged in the work to vindicate the memory 
of his master from ^ diverse sohdrie surmises 
and imagined tales^ made of his proqeedif^s 
and doings^" which he himself Imd ^ perfectly 
knowen to be most untrue." We cannot 
however but discover, that he was also stimu- 
lated by the desire of attracting attention to 
himself, the old and faithful domestic of a 

**' he took his journey with Master Kingston and the guard. 
And as soon as they espied their old master in such a lament- 
able estate, they lamented hip& with weeping eyes. Whom my 
lord took by ^e hands, and divers times, by the way, as he 
rode, he would talk with them, sometime wi^ one, and some* 
time witii another; at night he was lodged at a house of the 
Earl of Shrewsbury's, called Hardwick Hall, very evil at ease. 
The next day he rode to Nottingham, and there lodged that 
night, more sicker, and the next day we rode to Leicester Ab* 
bey ; and by the way he waxed so si(^, tiiat he was divers times 
likely to have fedlen from his mule.*' p. 536. Thin is an affect- 
ing picture. Shakspeare had undoubtedly seen these words, 
his portrait of the sick and dyij^ Cardinal so closely resembling 
this. But in these words is this <diionological difficulty. How 
is it that Hardwick Hall is spokoi of ad a house of ^ Earl of 
Shrewsbury's in the reign of Henry V HI. or at least in the days 
of Queen Mary, when it was well known that the house of this 
name between Sheffield and Nottingham, in which Ibe Countess 
of Sl^wsbtury spent her widowhood, a house described in thei 
Anecdotes of Painting, and seen and admired by every curious 
traveller in Derbyshire, did not accrue to the possessions of 
any part of the Slurewslmry funily till the marriage of an.ead, 
who was grandson to the Cardinal's host, with £1igabeth Hai^ 
wick, the widow of Sir William Cavendish^ in the time of Queen 
Elizabeth? If I recollect right, this difficulty perplexed that 
learned Derbyshire antiquary Dr. Samuel Pegge, who has 
written somewhat at length on the question, whether the Cardi-* 
nal met his death in consequence of having taken poison. See 


great man whose character was then begin- 
ning to retrieve itself in the eyes of an abused 
nation^ and whose misfortunes had prevented 
him from advancing his servants in a manner 
accordant to his own wishes^ and to the dig- 
nity of his service. He dwells with manifest 
complacency upon the words of commendation 
he received on different occasions from his 
master; and relates towards the conclusion 
how kindly he had been received by the king 
after the death of Wolsey, and what promises 

Gent. Mag. vol. xxv. p. 27, and vol. liii. p. 751. The editor 
of the Topographer proposes to correct the text by reading 
Wingfield in place of Hardwick; vol. ii. p. 79. The truth, 
however, is, Ihat though tiie story is told to every visitor of 
Hardwick Hall, that >^the great child of honour. Cardinal 
Wolsey,'' slept there a few nights before his death; as is also 
the story, equally unfounded, that Mary Queen of Scots wag 
confined there ; it was another Hardwick which received the 
weary traveller for a night in this his last melancholy pilgrim- 
age. This was Hardwick upon Line in Nottinghamshire, a 
place about as far to the soutili of Mansfield, as the Hardwick 
in Derbyshire, so much better known, is to the north-west. It 
is now gone to much decay, and is consequently omitted in many 
maps of the county. It is found in Speed. Here the Earl 
of Shrewsbury had a house in the time of Wolsey. Leland 
expressly mentions it. " The Erie [of Shrewsbury] hath a 
park and manor place or lodge yn it caullid Hardewike upon 
Iiine,*a four miles from Newstede Abbay/^ Itih. vol. v. fol* 
94, p. 108. Both the Hardwicks became afterwards the pro- 
perty of the Cavendishes. Thoroton tells us that Sir Charles 
Cavendish, youngest son of Sir William, and father of WiUiam 
Duke of Newcastle, '^ had begun to build a great house in this 
lordship, on a hill by the forest side, near Annesley Woodhouse, 
when he was assaulted and wounded by Sir John Stanhope and 
his men, as he was viewing the work, which was therefore 
thought fit to be left off, some blond being spilt in the quarrel, 
then very hotl)etween the two fisunilies.'' Throsby's edit, vol- 
ii. p. 294. 

cavendish's wolsey? xxxiii 

bad been made to him both by Henfy and the 
Duke of Norfolk, who yet suffered him to de- 
part into his own country. But what shows 
most strikingly that he was an unsatisfied 
man, and thought that he had by no means 
had the reward due to his faithful services, is 
a remark he makes after having related the 
sudden elevation of Wolsey to the deanry of 
Lincoln. ^Here,? says he, "may all men note 
the chaunces of fortune that foUowethe some 
whome she inteildeth to promote, and to ^ome 
her favor is cleane contrary, though they 
travaille never so much, with all the painfull 
diligence that they can devise or imagine: 
whereof for my part I have tasted of the ex- 
perience.^ p. 332 '\ 

*4- The reference is to Dr. VITordsworth's text ; the passage 
will be found at p. 15 of the present edition. The same strain 
of querulous complaint occurs in his prologue to the Metrical 
Visions, now first published : 

How some are by fortune exalted to riches, 
And often such as most unworthy be, &c. 

Afterwards he checks himself, and calls Dame Reason to his 


But after dewe serche and better advisement, 
I knew by Reason that oonly God above 
Rewlithe thos thyngs, ais is most convenyent, 
The same devysing to man for his behove : 
Wherefore Dame Reason did me persuade and move 
To be content with my small estate^ 
And in this matter no more to vestigate. 

Here we have decisive proof that the writer*s fortunes were 
not in the flourishing condition which marked those of Sir WiU 
liam Cavendish at this period, i. e. in the reign of Mary. 

S. W. S. 


Not so Sir There are persons whom nothing will sa- 
Cavendisii. tisfy> and they are sometimes the most import 
tnnate in obtruding their supposed neglects 
upon the public: but it must surely have been 
past all endurance to have had such a com- 
plaint as Ihis preferred by Sir William Ca- 
vendish in the days of Queen Mary. His life 
had been a continual series of promotions 
Hisempioy- and lucrativc employments. In 1530^ the 
motions^'^ very year in the November of which the Car- 
wardT dinai died, he was constituted one of the com- 
missioners for visiting and taking the surren- 
ders of divers religious houses. In 1539 he 
was made one of the Auditors of the Court of 
Augmentations, then lately established. At 
this period of his life he was living luxuriously 
at his mansion of North Awbrey near Lin- 
coln, as appears by the inventory of his furni- 
ture there, which is preserved in manuscript**. 

'^ It formed part of the curioiu coUection of manuscripts 
John Wil- made by the late John Wilson, Esq. of Bromhead near Sheffield, 
son of in Yorkshire; a gentleman who spent a long life in collecting, 
Bromhead. ^^^ transcribing where he could not procure posMSsioQ of the 
original, whatever might throw any light upon the descent of 
property, or on the history, language, or manners of our ances- 
tors. He was the intimate friend and correspondent of Burton, 
Watson, Brooke, Beckwith, and indeed of all that generation 
of Yorkshire antiquaries which passed away with the late Mr. 
Beaumont of Whitley Beaumont. Mr. Wilson died in 1783. 
Cayendish's library was not the best furnished apartment of his 
magnificent mansion. For the satisfactioti of the gentle Bib- 
liomaniac, I shall transcribe the brief catalogue c^ hia boolus* 
'' Chawcer, Froyssarte Cronides, a boke of Frendi and Eng- 
lish." They were kept in the new parler, where were also 


In the iMxt year he had a royal griant of seve- 
ral lordships in the coanty of Hertford. Ib 
1546 he was knighted; constituted treasurer 
of the chamber to the king^ a place of great 
trust and honour; and was soon afterwards 
admitted of the privy council. He continued 
to eii^y all these honours till his deaths a 
space of eleven years, in which time his estate 
was much increased by the grants he re- 
ceived from King Edward VI. in seven seve- 
ral counties^*. It was not surely for such a 
man (ta this to complain of the ludibria for- 
tuna, or of the little reward all his ^painful 
diligence^ bad received. Few men, as Sylvius 
says, would have such a ^poverty of grace'' 
that they would not 

« — , ■ " ■think it a most plenteous crop 
To glean the broken ears after the man 
That such a harvest reaps." 

Sir William Cavendish began the world the 
younger son of a family of some respectabi- 
lity, but of no great wealth or consequence; 

the pictor of our sov'eigne lord the kyng, tbe pyctor of the 
Frenche kyng and another of the Frenche quene : also * two 
other tabli^y one wittitowe antick^ hoya, & the o|her of a siorye 
of the Byble/ In *the lyttle parler' was *a payntyd clothe 
with the pictor of Kyng Harry flie VIII** our sovercygne lord, 
& ky»g Harry the VII»*& the V^^ Edwaid the Forthe k 
Bychard the Third/ 

*^ The authorities for this detail of die enaployments, vewards, 
9wd honours of Sir Willison Cavendi«h ar« to he fi>9n4 ii^ Ae 
Biographia and the Peerages. 



and he left it^ at about the age of fifty^a kn^bt, 
a privy counsellor, and the owner of estates 
which, managed and improved as they were by 
his prudent relict, furnished two houses with 
the means of supporting in becoming splen- 
dour the very first rank in the British peerage. 
But an ambitious man is not to be con- 
tented ; and men do form erroneous estimates 
of their own deserts: let us see, then, if the 
work will not supply us with something more 
Zealous Th^ wrfter is fond of bringing forward 

^m^^ his religious sentiments. The reader will be 
^^' amused with the following sally against the 
Reformation, its origin, and favourers. He 
who is disposed may find in it matter for se- 
rious reflection. When Cavendish has re- 
lated that the king submitted to be cited by 
the two legates, and to appear in person be- 
fore them, to be questioned touching the mat- 
ter of the divorce, he breaks out into this 
exclamation: — ^^Forsoothe it is a world to 
consider the desirous will of wilful! princes, 
when they be set and earnestly bent to have 
their wills fulfilled, wherein no reasonable per- 
suasions will suffice; and how little they re- 
gard the dangerous sequell that may ensue, as 
well to themselves as to their subjects. And 
above all Ihings, there is nothing that maketh 


them more wilfull than camall love and sen- 
suall affection of voluptuous desire^ and plea- 
sures of their bodies^ as was in this case; 
wherein nothing could be of greater expe- 
rience than to see what inventions were fur- 
nished^ what lawes were enacted, what cojstly 
edifications of noble and auncient monasteries 
were overthrowne, what diversity of opinions 
then rose, what executions were then com- 
mitted, how many noble clerkes and good men 
were then for the same put to deathe, what 
alteration of good, auncient, and holesome 
lawes, customes, and charitable foundations 
were toumed from reliefe of the poore, to 
utter destruction and desolation, almost to 
the subversion of tbis noble reahne. It 
is sure too much pitty to heare or under- 
stand the things that have since that time 
chaunced and happened to Ihis region. The 
profe thereof hath taught us all Englishmen 
the experience, too lamentable of all good 
men to be considered. If eyes be not blind 
men may see, if eares be not stopped they 
may heare, and if pitty be not exiled the 
inward man may lament the sequell of this 
pernicious and inordinate love. Although 
it lasted but a while, the plague thereof is 
not yet ceased, which our Lorde quenche and 
take his indignation jQrom n^ \ Qui peccavi- 


mus cum patrihm nostriSj et injuste egimusJ'^ 
p. 420 and 4dl. 
Not so Sir This piassage^ warm from the hearty ooold 
Cavendish, have been written by none but a zealons anti^ 
reformist. That certaiidy was not Sir Wil- 
liam Cavendish. He had been one of the 
principal instruments in effecting what I most 
be allowed to call a necessary and glorious 
work. Men are not accustomed to record their 
own condemnation witii such a bold^ untrem-^ 
bling hand. That hand^ which is supposed 
to have penned these words, had been once 
extended to receive the conventual seal of 
the Priory of Sheen, and the Abbey of St.- 
Alban's. The person by whom we are to 
believe they were written had been an officer 
in that court which was purposely erected 
to attend to the augmentation of the king's 
revenue by the sequestration of ecclesiastical 
property; the proceedings of which court 
were too often unnecessarily harsh and arbi- 
trary, if not unjust and oppressive. Nay, 
more, at the very time these words were writ- 
ten. Sir William Cavendish was living on the 
spoils of those very monasteries whose over- 
throw is so deeply deplored ) and rearing out 
of them a magnificent mansion at Chatswortfa 
in Derbyshire, to be the abode of himself and 
his posterity. After so long and so decided 


a passage^ it has been tiiought annecessary 
to quote any other : but throughout the work 
appears the same zeal in the writer to signa- 
lize himself as a friend to the old profession. 
May not this be considered as amounting to 
something almost conclusive against the sup- 
position that the attendant upon Wolsey and 
Sir William Cavendish were the same person? 

Will it be said that he turned with the sir wiuiam 
times; that he who, in the Protestant reigns^ did^^t 
had been zealous for the Gospel, in the Catho^ the ^mT. 
lie reign was equally eealous for the Masst 
and that this work was his amende to the of ^ 
fended party. I know not of any authority 
we have for charging this religious tergiver^ 
sation upon Sir William Cavendish^ who^ for 
any thing that appears in his history^ was ani^ 
mated by other views in promoting the oause 
of reform^ than the desire of personal ad* 
vancement^ and of obtaining the favour of his 
prince : and I am prepared with two facts in 
his history^ not mentioned by former writers^ 
which are unfavourable to such a supposition. 
The first shows that he was in some disgrace 
at the court of Queen Mary as late as the 
fourth year of her reign ; the second^ that he 
did not seek to ingratiate himself there* On 
the 17th of August^ 1B56, a very peremptory 
order of council was issued^ commanding his 


^indelaid repaire" to the court to answer on 
^suche matters as at his cdmyng^ should be 
declared unto him. The original^ subscribed 
by seven of the Queen's council^ is among 
the Wilson, collections mentioned in the note 
at page 2L What the particular chaxges 
were it is not material to our argument to in- 
quire. The next year also, the year in which 
he . died, he ungraciously refused a loan of 
one hundred pounds required of him and 
other Derbyshire gentlemen by the Quq^, 
when her majesty was in distress for money 
to carry on the French war. These facts 
show that though he was continued in the 
offices of treasurer of the chamber and privy 
counsellor, he was in no very high esteem 
with Queen Mary, nor sought to conciliate 
her favourable regards. To which we may 
add, that his lady, whose spirit and mascu- 
line understanding would probably give her 
very considerable influence in the delibera- 
tions of his mind, was through life a firm 
friend to the Reformation, and in high favour 
with Queen Elizabeth. 

Whatever effect the preceding facts and 
argument may have had upon the reader's 
mind, there is a piece of evidence still to be 
brought out, which is more conclusive against 
the claim of Sir William Cavendish. Soon 


after the Cardinal was aitested at his house of 
Cawood in Yorkshire, Cavendish tells us that 
he resorted to his lord, ^ where he was in his 
chamber sitting in a chaire, the tables being 
spred for him to goe to dinner. But as soone 
as he perceived me to come in, he fell out into 
suche a WfuU lamentation, with suche ruthe- 
full teares and watery eies, that it would have 
caused a flinty harte to moume with him; 
And as I could, I with others comforted him; 
but it would not be. For, quoth he, nowe I 
lament that I see this gentleman (meaning 
me) how faithefuU, how dilligent, and how 
painefull he hath served me, abandonning his 
owne country, wife and children^ his house 
and family, his rest and quietnesse, only to The author 

111 at^ • X T married and 

serve me, and 1 have nothmge to rewardOafather 
him for his highe merittes.'' p. 517. beforeisao. 

Hence it appears that the Cavendish who 
wrote this work was married, and had a 
family probably before he entered into the 
Cardinal's service, certainly while he was en- 
gaged in it. At what precise period he be- 
came a member of the Cardinal's household 
cannot be collected from his own writings. 
Grove says it was as early as 1519 ^'^j the 
Biographia tells us that the place was pro- 

<7 i^fe iinci Times» &c. vol. iii. p. 98. 


cared for him by his father, who died in 
1524. This howerer i$ certain, that the first 
mention of himself, as one in attendance upon 
the Cardinal, is in the exceedingly corioos 
account he has given of the means used to 
break the growing attachment between the 
Lord Percy and Anne Boleyn, in order to 
make way for the king. Cavendish was pre* 
sent when the Earl of Northumberland took 
his son to task. This must have been before 
the year 1B27; for in that year the Lord 
Percy became himself Earl of Northumber- 
land; and probably it was at least a twelve-^ 
month before; for ere the old EarPs depar- 
ture, a marriage had been concluded between 
Lord Percy and the Lady Mary Talbot, a 
daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury". In 

Maiy, . 'B Though littie ceremony aiid probably as little time was 

CoonteM of TQggji in patching up these nuptials. As might be expected, they 
berlandT" ^®''® ^^^ unhappy. So we are told on the authority of the 
earl's own letters in the very laboured account of the Percy 
family given in the edition of CoUins's Peerage, 1779; perhaps 
the best piece of family history in our language. *' Henry the. 
unthrifty,'' Earl of Northumberland, died at Hackney in the 
prime of life, about ten or twelve years after he had consented 
to this marriage. Of tins term but a very small part wasapent 
in company of his lady. He lived long ^aough, however, not 
only to witness the destruction of all his own happiness, but the 
sad termination of Anne Boleyn'a life. In the admirable ac- 
count of the Percy family, referred to above, no mention is 
made of the lady who, on these terms, consented to become 
Countess of Northumberland, in her long widowhood . She bad 
a valuable grant of abbey lands and tythes, from which, proba- 
bly she derived her principal support. One letter of hers has 


1526 tben^ the Cavendish who wrote this 
woric was a member of Wolsey's hoosehold. 
Now, fortunately for this inquiry, it happens Not » sir 
that an exact account has been preserved of Cavendisii. 
the several marriages and the numerous issue 
of Sir William Cavendish. It is to be found 
in the Amend certificate, which, according to 
a laudable custom of those times, was entered 
by his rdict among the records of the College 
of Arms. This document, subscribed by her 
own hand, sets forth that her husband's first- 
born child came into the world on the 7th of 
January, in the 26th year of King Henry 
VIII. This answers to 1534 : that is at least 
seven years after the Cavendish, tor whom 

fallen into my hands. It presents her in an amiahle position. 
She is pleading in behalf of a poor man whose cattle had beeff 
impounded by one of Lady Cavendish's agents. Its date and 
place is to the eye WormhiU*; but the running hand of that 
age, when not carefully written, is not to be depended on for 
representing proper names with perfect exactness, and the place 
may be WreshiU, which was a house of the Northumberland 
&niily. She died in 1672; and on the 17th of May her mortal 
remains were deposited in the vault made by her father in 
Sheffield church, where sleep so many of her noble relatives, 
some of them in monumental honours. 

* Id justice to the amiable autlior of this essay, who ia extremely anxioas to be 
accnrate, I ttiink it propor to apprise the reader that the nole taken flpom the former 
editioD of his work at p. 05 of the Life of Wolsey mnst be qualified by what is here 
suted. In a letter with which I have been favotred, he wf$, ** I h^f loo)ced 
ajaiD and again at the letter, and the word is certainly (if we nuy jndge from the 
characters which the lady's pen has formed) WormMU: yet itiil I think U mfiit 
have been intended for Wreahilly as I have met with nothing else to show thai 
ttelad|rhftd«h6«featW<>nnhill.'' 8.W. S. . 


we are inquiring^ had become a member of 
Wolsey's family^ and more than three years 
after the Cardinal had remarked that his gen- 
tleman usher had left ^wife and children^ his 
home and family^ his rest and quietn^sse^^ 
only to serve him. This is decisive. 
The funeral The document which contains these family 
where^lbe particulaTs of the Cavendishes is not known 
found. ^^jy ^^ those gentlemen who have access to 
the arcana of the College of Arms. It has 
been published: and it is remarkable that 
Arthur Collins^ who has been a princip^ 
cause of the error concerning the author erf 
this work^ gaining such firm hold on the 
public mind^ should have been the first to 
lay before the public a record which proves 
beyond dispute that the Cavendish who 
wrote the Life of Wolsey could not be the 
Cavendish who was the progenitor of the 
house of Devonshire. It is printed in his 
^ Noble Families/ where is a more complete 
account of the Cavendishes than is to be 
found in his Peerage^ and which might have 
been transferred with advantage into the later 
editions of that work. This document has 
also been printed by Guthrie and Jacobs 
whose account of the nobility of this nation 
may often be consulted with advantage^ after 
having read any of the editions of Collins. 


Of its authenticity y the only point material io 
this inquiry^ no suspicion can reasonably be 

We have now brought to a conclusion our 
inquiry into the right of the tenant in posses.-^ 
sian. It has been questioned, examined, and, 
I think, disproved. It is not contended that 
the common opinion respecting Sir William 
Cavendish's attendance upon Wolsey does 
not harmonize well enough with what is known 
of his real history, and to render our proof 
absolutely complete, it might seem to be 
almost incumbent upon us to show how Sir 
William Cavendish was engaged while Wol- 
sey's biographer was discharging the duties 
of his office as an attendant upon the Car- 
dinal. Could we do this, we should also dis- 
close the steps by which he attained to his 
honourable state employments, and the favour 
of successive monarchs. In the absence of How the 
positive testimony I would be permitted to^d/w^. 
hazard the conjecture, that, in early life he^ma7'^* 
followed the steps of his father, who had an s^nt. 
ofl^ce in the court of Exchequer. Such an 
education as he would receive in that court 
would render him a most fit instrument for 
the purpose in which we first find his ser- 
vices used, the suppression of the monaste- 


ries^ and the appropriation of the lands belong- 
ing to tiiem to his royal master. Having 
signalized his zeal^ and given proof of his 
ability in this service, so grateful to the King, 
we may easily account for his farther employ- 
ments, and the promotions and rewards which 
followed them. Let it however be observed, 
that this is no essential part of our aj^ument; 
nor shall I pursue the inquiry any further, 
mindful of the well known and sage counsel 
of the Lord Chancellor Bacon. 

I would however be permitted to ^ay some- 
thing on that very extraordinary woman, the 
lady of Sir William Cavendish, and the sharer 
with him in raising the family to that state of 
affluence and honour in which we fkov behold 
it Indeed she was a more than equal sharer. 
He laid the foundation, she raised the super* 
structure; as she finished the family palace 
at Chatsworth, of which he had laid tl^ first 
Huiady This lady was Eliisabeth Hardwick, a name 
duxaiy ciMr familiar to all visitors of the county of Derby, 
whesre she lived more tlian half a century with 
Hitle less than , sovereign authority, havii^ 
first adorned it with two most splendid mw^ 
sioas. The daughter, and the virgin widow 
of two Derbyshire gentlemen of moderate 


estates^ dhe first stepped into consequeoee by 
her marriage with Sir William Cavendish^ a 
gentleman much older than herself. The ce- 
remony was performed at the house of the 
Marquis of Dorset ^^, father to the Lady Jane 
Grey, who, with the Countess of Warwick 
and the Earl of Shrewsbury, was a sponsor 
at the baptism of her second child. Caven- 
dish left her a widow with six children in 
1557. Shortly after his death she united her- 
self to Sir William St. Lowe, one of the old Marries sir 
attendants of the Princess Elizabeth, on whose low^ 
accession to the throne he was made captain 
of her guard. In 1567, being a third time a 
widow, she was raised to the bed of the most 
powerful peer of the realm, George Tdbot> becomes 
Earl of Shrewsbury. He had been a friend st^s- 
of Sir William Cavendish, and it is possible ^^' 
that the magnificent state which he displayed 
in the immediate neighbourhood of this lady 
had more than once excited her envy. She 
loved pomp aod magnificence and personal 
splendour, as much as she enjoyed the hurry 
and engagement of mind which mpltiplied 
worldly business brings with it. She had % 
passion for jewels, which was appealed to 

'9 Broadgate in Leicestershire. See the Funeral Certificate. 
They were married on the 20th Aug. 1 Bdw. VI., at two o'clock 
after midnight. 

xlviii WHO WROTE 

Has a pre- and gratified by the unhappy Mary Queen of 
eigfi^m^^Scotiand**, who lived many years under the 
q^ of care of the Earl of Shrewsbury^ her husband. 
^ She united herself to this nobleman more^ as 

it should seem^ from motives of ambition^ 
than as the consequence of any real affection 
she had for him. He had unquestionably the 
sincerest regard for her: and^ though she 
forgot many of the duties of a wife, it con- 
tinued many years in the midst of all that 
reserve and perfidity, and even tyranny, if 
such a word may be allowed, which she 
thought proper to exercise towards him. The 
decline of this good and great man's life af- 
fords a striking lesson how utterly insufficient 
are wealth and splendour and rank to secure 
happiness even in a case where there is no 
experience of the more extraordinary vicis- 
situdes of fortune, the peculiar danger of 
persons in elevated situations. Probably the 
happiest days of the last three and twenty 
years of his life were those in which he was 
employing himself in preparing his own se- 
Deathof pulchre. This he occupied in 1590. But 
the effect of his ill advised nuptials ex- 
tended beyond his life. His second countess 

*** Among the Wilson coUectiou is a list of jewels presented 
to the Countess of Shrewsbury by the Queen of Scotland. 


had drawn over to her purposes some of his 
family^ who had assisted her in the designs 
she carried on against her husband. She 
had drawn them closely to her interest by 
alliances with her own family. Hence arose 
family animosities^ which appeared . in the 
most frightful forms^ and threatened the most 
deadly consequences**. Much may be seen 
respecting this extraordinary woman in the 
Talbot papers published by Mr. Lodge. A 
bundle of her private correspondence has 
b^en preserved, and forms a curious and 
valuable part of that collection of manuscripts 
which we have had occasion more than once 
to mention. These let in much light upon her 
conduct. It is impossible to contemplate her 
character in this faithful mirror without being 
convinced that Mr. Lodge has drawn the 
great outlines of it correctly, when he de- 
scribes her as " a woman of masculine under- Mr.Lodge's 
standing and conduct; proud, furious, selfish, her. 
and unfeeling*^.'' Yet she was a favourite 
of Queen Elizabeth, who paid her this com- 
pliment soon after her last marriage, that Anecdote of 


'^ See ** Memoirs of the Peers of England during the Reign 
of James the First," p. 19, Lodge's " Illustrations/' &c. iii. 
50—64. and Harl. MS. in Brit. Mus. No. 4836. fol. 325. and 
6846. fol. 97. 

'9 « niustrations," &c. Introd. p, 17. 

VOL, II. d 


^sbe had been glad to see my Lady Saint 
Lowe^ but was more desiroas to see my Lady 
Shrewsbury^ and that there was no lady in 
the land whom she better loved and liked." 
These flattering expressions were used to Mr. 
Wingfield, who was a near relation of thi» 
lady^ and who lost no time in reporting them 
to her. Most of these letters are upon pri- 
vate affairs: a few only are from perscms 
whom she had engaged to send her the news 
of the day^ as was usual with the great people 
Letters to of that age when absent from court There 
are several of the letters which she received 
from Saint Lowe and Shrewsbury^ which show 
how extraordinary was the influence she had 
gained over their minds. There is one fit)m 
Sir William Cavendish. Having laboured to 
show what the knight did not compose^ I shall 
transcribe in the note below this genuine frag- 
ment of his writings though in no respect 
worthy of publication^ except as having passed 
between these two remarkable characters^. 
It is expressed in a strain of familiarity to 
which neither of his successors ever dared 

Original »<> To Besse Cavendysh 

sSwmmi mywyff. 

Cavendish. ^^^ Besse, haveing forgotten to wryght in my letters that 
you shnld pay Otewell Alayne eight pounds for certayne otys 
that we have bought of hym ov' and above x" that I have paid 
to hjrm in hand, I hertely pray you for that he is desyms to re- 


aspire. To conclude the history of this lady, 
she survived her last husband about seven- 
teen years, which were spent for the most 
part at Hardwick, the place of her birth, and 
where she had built the present noble man- 
sion. There she died in 1607, and was in- 
terred in the great church at Derby. 

The courteous reader will, it is hoped, par- 
don this digression; and now set we forth on 
the second stage of our inquiry. Who wrote 
Cavendish's Life of Wolsey ? 

When there are only two claimants uponciaimof 
any property, if the pretensions of one can beveiS. 
shown to be groundless, those of the other 
seem to be established as a necessary conse^ 
quence. But here we have a third party. 
Beside Sir William and his elder brother 
Greorge, a claimant has been found in a 
T^homas Cavendish. In the account of Wol- 
sey given in the Athense**, Wood calls the 
author by this name : and Dodd, a Catholic 
divine, who published a Church History of 
England in 3 vols, folio, (Brussels, 1737.) 
in a list of historians and manuscripts used 

ceyye the rest at London, to pay hym uppon the sight hereof. 
Yon knowe my store Mjaii therefoKa I have appoyntyd kym to 
have it at yo' hands. And thus faer you well. From Chattes- 
worth the xiii* of Aprell. . W. 6. 

'' Ath. OxoA. vol. i. eol. 669. ed. 1«&1. 

4 2 


in the preparation of his work, enumerates 
" Cavendish Thomas, Life of Cardinal Wol- 
sey, Lond. 1590.'' It is very probable that 
Dodd may have contented himself with copy- 
ing the name of this author from the Athenae^ 
a book he used: and it is with the utmost 
deference, and the highest possible respect, 
for the wonderful industry and the extra- 
ordinary exactness of the Oxford antiquary, 
I would intimate my opinion that, in this in- 
stance, he has been misled. To subject the 
pretensions of Thomas Cavendish to such 
a scrutiny as that to which those of Sir Wil- 
liam have been brought is quite out of the 
question: for neither Wood nor Dodd have 
thrown any light whatever on his history 
or character. He appears before us like 
Homer, nomen, et praterea nihil. There was 
a person of both his names, of the Orimstone 
family, a noted navigator, and an author in 
the days of Queen Elizabeth; but he lived 
much too late to have ever formed a part of 
the household of Cardinal Wolsey. 

We must now state the evidence in fevour 
of George Cavendish. The reader will judge 
for himself whether the testimony of Anthony 
Wood, and that of the Catholic church-histo- 
rian, supposing them to be distinct and inde- 
pendent testimonies, is sufficient to outweigh 
what is to be aldvanced in support of George 

cavendish's wolsey? liii 

Cavendish's claim. We shall first state on 
what grounds the work is attributed to a 
Cavendish whose name was George; and 
secondly, the reasons we have for believing 
that he was the George Cavendish of Glems- 
ford in Suflfolk, to whom my Lord Herbert 
ascribes the work. 

On the former point the evidence is wholly That the 
external. It lies in a small compass; but it name was 
is of great weight. It consists in the testi- ^^' 
mony of all the ancient manuscripts which 
bear any title of an even date with them- 
selves®: and in that of the learned herald 
and antiquary Francis Thinne, a contempo- 
rary of the author's, who, in the list of wri- 
ters of English history- which he subjoined to 
Hollinshead's Chronicle, mentions ^George 
Cavendish, Gentleman Vsher vnto Cardinal 
Woolseie, whose life he did write." 

Now to our second point. Four circum- Four di- 
stances of the author's situation are discovered of the ai>> 
to us in the work itself: viz. that his life was ditiondiaco- 

▼ered in the 
. work. 

^^ 'None of the publishers of this work have given as the Original 
original title. I shall here transcribe it as it appears upon the title of tKe 
manuscript in the Library of the College of Arms. ^^ 

Thomas Wolsey, late Cardinall intituled 

of S* Cicile trans Tiberim presbyter and 

liord Chauncellar of England, his lyfe 

and deathe, compiled by George 

Cavendishe, his gentleman Usher. 


extended through the reigns of Henry VUI- 
Edward VI. and Queen Mary; tiiat while he 
was in the Cardinal's service he was a mar- 
ried man^ and had a family: that he was in 
but moderate curcumstances when he com^ 
posed this memoir; and that he retained a 
zeal for the old profession^ of religion. If 
we find these circumstances concurring in a 
George Cavendi^h^ it is probable we have 
found the person for whom, we are in search. 

Scanty as is the information afforded us 
concerning a simple esquire of the days of the 
Tudors, it will probably be made apparent 
that these circumstances do concur in the 
person to whom my Lord Herbert ascribes 
the work. Men of little celebrity in their 
lives^ and whose track through the world 
cannot be discovered by the light of history, 
are sometimes found attaining a faint and 
obscure ^life after death" in the herald's visi- 
tation books and the labours of the scrivener. 
Those rolls of immortality are open to every 
man. They transmit to a remote posterity 
the worthless and the silly with as much cer- 
tainty as the name of one who was instinct 
with the fire of genius^ and whom a noble 
ambition to be good and great distinguished 
from the common herd of men. It is in these 
rolls only that the name of George Cavendish 


of Glemsford is come down to us: he forms a 
link in the pedigree: he is a Biedium ib the 
transmission of manorial property. 

But this very obscurity creates a presump- obscurity 
tion in &your of his claim. What employ- Cav^dish 
meut that should raise him into notice would d^lTii^ 
be offered in the days of Henry and Edward ^^^'^'^ 
to the faithful and affectionate attendant upon 
a character so unpopular among the great as 
the haughty, low-born Wolsey? What should 
have placed his name upon public record 
who did not, like Cromwell and some other 
of Wolsey's domestics, "find himself a way 
out of his master^s wreck to rise in* by throw- 
ing himself upon the court, but retired, as 
Cavendish at the conclusion of the Memoirs 
tells us he did, to his own estate in the coun^ 
try, with his wages, a small gratuity, and a 
present of Six of the Cardinal's horses to 
convey his furniture? That, living at a dis- 
tance from the court, he should have been 
overlooked on the change of the times, can- 
not be surprising: he was only one among 
many who would have equal claims upon 
Mary and her ministry. Had she lived in- 
deed till his work had been published, we 
might then reasonably have expected to have 
seen a man of so much virtue, and talent, and 
religious zeal, drawn from his obscurity, and 


his name might have been as well known to 
our history as that of bis brother the re- 
formist. But Mary died too soon for his 
hope^ and those of many others of his party^ 
though not too soon for the interests of reUU 
gion and humanity. All expectation of seeing^ 
the admirer and apologist of Wolsey emerge 
from his obscurity must end with the acces^ 
sion of the protestant princess Elizabeth. 
What is It is therefore not surprising^ and on the 
Gw^^Ca- whole rather favourable to our argument^ that 
Gtemsfo^. nearly all which can now be collected of 
George Cavendish of Glemsford is contained 
in the following passage extracted from cer^ 
tain ^ Notices of the manor of Cavendish iu 
Suffolk^ and of the Cavendish family while 
possessed of that manor^'' which was com- 
municated to the Society of Antiquaries by 
Thomas Ruggles, Esq., the owner of the said 
manor ^. Cavendish, it will be recollected, 
is a manor adjoining to Glemsford, and which 
belonged to the same parties. 

George Cavendish is stated to be the eld- 
est son of Thomas Cavendish, Esq. who was 
clerk of the pipe in the Exchequer. He 
^ was in possession of the manor of. Cavendish 
Overhall, and had two sonsj William was 

*^ Archsedogiay vol. xi. p. 50—62. 


the eldest^ to whom^ in the fourth year of 
Philip and Mary, 1558, he granted by deed 
enrolled in Chancery this manor in fee, on 
the said William, releasing to his father one 
annual pajnnent of twenty marks, and cove- 
nanting to pay him yearly fqr life, at the site 
of the mansion-house of Spains-hall, in the 
parish of Finchingfield, in the county of Essex, 
forty pounds, at the four usual quarterly days 
of payment. When George Cavendishe died 
is uncertain : but it is apprehended in 1561 
or 1562. 

^William Cavendishe his son was in pos- 
session of the manor in the fourth year of 

Elizabeth.^ ^He was succeeded in this 

estate by his son William Cavendysh of Lon- 
don, mercer, who, by that description, and 
reciting himself to be the son of William 
Cavendishe, gentlemam, deceased, by deed 
dated the 25th of July, in the eleventh year 
of the reign of Elizabeth, 1569, released all 
his right and title to this estate, and to other 
lands lying in different parishes, to William 
Downes of Sudbury, in Suffolk, Esq.'' 

This detaQ plainly intimates that decay of ms fortune 
the consequence and circumstances of a family *^^^ 
which we might expect from the complaints 
in the Memoirs of Wolsey, of the unequal 
dealings of fortune, and of the little reward 


all the writer's ^painfull diligence" had re- 
ceived. We see George Cavendish^ for a 
small annual payment in money^ giving up the 
ancient inheritance of his family^ a manor caU^ 
ed after his own name: and only eleven y^ars 
after^ that very estate passed to strangers to 
the mune and blood of the Gavenditdies by his 
grandson and next heir^ who was engaged 

Married be- in trade in the city of London. We find 
also what we have the concurrent testimony 
of the heralds of that time to prove^ that 
this George Cavendish was married^ and the 
father of sons : bat on a closer inspection we 
find more than this : we discover that he must 
have been married as early as 1526^ when we 
first find the biographer of Wolsey a mem- 
ber of the Cardinal's household**. William 
Cavendish the younger^ grandson to George 
Cavendish^ must have been of full age before 
he could convey the estate of his forefiith^rs. 
He was bom therefore as early as 1548. If 
from this we take a presumed age of his father 
at the time of his birth^ we shall arrive at this 
conclusion^ that George Cavendish the grand* 
fiither was a family-man at least as early as 

A CathoKc 1526. To another pointy namely^ the reli- 
gious profession of this Suffolk gentleman^ 

*♦ See page 27. 


our proof, it mast be allowed, is not so deci- 
sive. I rely however, with some confidence, 
upon this fact, for which we are indebted 
to the heralds, that he was nearly allied to 
Sir Thomas More, the idol of the Catholic 
party in his own time, and the object of just 
respect with good men in all times, Mar- 
gery his wife being a daughter of William 
Kemp of Spains-hall in Essex, Esq. by Mary 
Colt his wife, sister to Jane, first wife of the 
Chancellor**. Indeed it seems as if the 
Kemps, in whose house the latter days of 
this George Cavendish were spent, were of 
the old profession. The extraordinary pen- 
ance to which one of this family subjected 
himself savours strongly of habits and opi- 
nions generated by the Homan Catholic sys- 
tem. It is perhaps unnecessary, in the last lived in 
place, to remind the reader, that what Mr. re^nB.^ 
haggles has discovered to us of the owner 
;' Cavendish shows that his life was extended 
iirough the reigns of the second, third, and 
/burth monarchs of the house of Tudor : now 
the family pedigrees present us with no other 
George Cavendish of whom this is the truth. 
And here the case is closed. 

*5 See Vincent's Suffolk, MS. in Col. Ann. fol. 149, and 
compare with Morant's Essex, vol. ii. p. 363, and with the ac- 
count of the Cavendishes in the Peerages. 


Genealogy. It has been thought proper to annex the 
following geneal6gical table^ which exhibits 
the relationship subsisting among the several 
members of the house of Cavendish ^whose 
names have been mentioned in the preceditig 

Thomas Cavendish, 

Clerk of the Pipe. 

Wm dated 13th Apnl, 1623. 

Died Dext year. 

Al^ce, daughter and heir of 
John Smith of Padbrook^ 
hall, CO. Suff. 

George, - 
of Glemsford and Ca- 
vendish, Esq. 
eldest son and heir, 
Gentleman usher to 
Cardinal Wolsey, and 
writer of hisLife. Bom 
about 1600. Died 
about 1661 or 1662. 

daughter of 
Wm. Kemp, 
of Spains- 
hall, Essex, 
niece to Sir 
Thoe. More. 


Owner of the 
manor of Caven- 
dish 1662. 



of London, mer- 
cer. Sold Ca- 
vendish 1668. 


of North Aw- 
brey, and 
Knt Auditor 
of the Court 
of Ausmenta- 
tions,lcc. Un- 
der age 1623. 
Died 1667. 

1, Henry, 



2. William, 
created Earl of 
Devonshire 16 
Jac I. 1618. 


3. Sir Charles, 

father of William 
Duke of Newcas- 

: Elissabeth (ihixd 
wife, daughter of John 
Hard wick f of Hard' 
wick, CO, Derby, Esq, 
widow of Robert Bar- 
low, of Barlow, in the 
same county. She sur- 
vived CayendisJb» and 
married Sir Williafli 
St. Lowe^ and George 
6th Earl of Shrews- 


1, Frances, 
Wife of Sir 

Henfy Pi*3r- 

2. Elizabeth, 
Wife of Cbarlcff 
SiuEitt EarJ of 

3. Mary, 
Wife of Gilbert 
TRlbot, Earl of 


Supposing that the reader is convinced by oiigm of 
the preceding evidence and arguments^ that taken ap- 
this work could not be the production of Sir SfSkworL 
William Cavendish, and that he was not the 
faithful attendant upon Cardinal Wolsey^ I 
shall give him credit for a degree of curiosity 
to know how it happened that a story so far 
from the truth gained possession of the public 
mind^ and established itself in so many works 
of acknowledged authority. That desire I 
shall be able to gratify^ and will detain him but 
a little while longer^ when the disclosure has 
been made of a process by which error has 
grown up to the exclusion of truths in which 
it will be allowed that there is something of cu- 
riosity and interest Error, like rumour, often 
appears parva metu primdy but, like her also, 
vires cicquirit eundo. So it has been in the 
present instance. What was at first advanced 
with all the due modesty of probability and 
conjecture, was repeated by another person 
as something nearer to certain truth: soon 
every thing which intimated that it was only 
conjecture became laid aside, and it appeared 
with the broad bold front in which we now 
behold it. 

The father of this misconception was no Kennet. 
other than Dr. White Kennet In 1708, be- 
ing then only Archdeacon of Huntingdon, this 


Genealogy. It has been thought proper to annex the 
following geneal6gical table, which exhibits 
the relationship subsisting among the several 
members of the house of Cavendish whose 
names have been mentioned in the preceding* 

Thomas Cavendish, < 
Clerk of the Pipe. 
WiU dated 13th April, 1623. 
Died Dext year. 

Al^ce, daughter and heir of 
' John Smith of Padbrook^ 
hall, CO. Suff. 

George, >yMar6ery, SirWiLLiAii,^ 

= Elizabeth (third 

of Glemsford and Ca- 

daughter of of North Aw-; 

wife, daughter of John 
Hardwick, of Hard- 

vendish, Esq. 


Kemp, brey, and 

eldest son and heir, 


Spains- Chatsworth, 
Essex, Knt. Auditor 

wick, co. Derby, Esq. 

Gentleman usher to 


widow of Robert Bar- 

Cardinal Wolsey , and 


to Sir of the Court 

low, of Barlow, in the 

writer of bisLife. Bom 


. More, of Augmenta- 

same county. She sur- 

about 1600. Died 

tions, &c. Un- 

vived Cavendish, and 

about 1661 or 1662. 

der age 1623. 

married Sir William 

Died 1567. 

St. Lowe, and George 
6th Earl of Shrews- 


1. Henry, 

1. Frances, 



Wife of Sir 

Owner of the 

8. p. 

Henry Pier- 

manor of Caven* 


dish 1662. 

2. William, 

2. Elizabeth, 


created Earl of 

Wife of Charles 

of London, mer- 

Devonshire 16 

Stuart, Earl of 

cer. Sold Ca- 

Jac. i. 1618. 


vendish 1569. 

3. Sir Charles, 

3. Mary, 


Wife of Gilbert 

father of William 

Talbot, Earl of 

Duke of Newcas- 



Supposing that the reader is convinced by origm of 
the preceding evidence and arguments^ that taken ap- 
this work could not be the production of Sir ofShi^ork. 
William Cavendish, and that he was not the 
faithful attendant upon Cardinal Wolsey, I 
shall give him credit for a degree of curiosity 
to know how it happened that a story so far 
from the truth gained possession of the public 
mind^ and established itself in so many works 
of acknowledged authority. That desire I 
shall be able to gratify^ and will detain him but 
a little while longer, when the disclosure has 
been made of a process by which error has 
grown up to the exclusion of truth, in which 
it will be allowed that there is something of cu- 
riosity and interesf. Error, like rumour, often 
appears parva metu primd^ but, like her also, 
vires acquirit eundo. So it has been in the 
present instance. What was at first advanced 
with all the due modesty of probability and 
conjecture, was repeated by another person 
as something nearer to certain truth : soon 
every thing which intimated that it was only 
conjecture became laid aside, and it appeared 
with the broad bold front in which we now 
behold it. 

The father of this misconception was noKeanet. 
other than Dr. White Kennet. In 1708, be- 
ing then only Archdeacon of Huntingdon, this 



Genealogy. It hos been thought proper to annex the 
following geneal6gical table^ which exhibits 
the relationship subsisting among the several 
members of the house of Cavendish whose 
names have been mentioned in the preceding 

Thomas Cavendish, 

Clerk of the Pipe. 

Wm dated 13th April, 1623. 

Died Dext year. 

^AhicEy daughter and heir of 
John Smith of Padbrook^ 
hall, CO. Suff. 

George, ts 
of Glemsford and Ca- 
vendish, Esq. 
eldest son and heir, 
Gentleman usher to 
Cardinal Wolsey , and 
writer of bisLife. Bom 
about 1600. Died 
about 1561 or 1662. 

daughter of 
Wm. Kemp, 
of Spains- 
hall, Essex, 
niece to Sir 
Thos. More. 


Owner of the 
manor of Caven* 
dish 1562. 



of London, mer- 
cer. Sold Ca- 
vendish 1569. 

of North Aw- 
brey, and 
Knt. Auditor 
of the Court 
of Augmenta- 
tions, &c. Un- 
der age 1623. 
Died 1557. 

1, Henry, 


2. William, 

created Earl of 
Devonshire 16 
Jac. I. 1618. 

3. Sir CHARLES, 

father of William 
Duke of Newcas- 

: Elizabeth (third 
wife, daughter of John 
Hardwick, of Hard- 
wick, co. Derby, Esq. 
widow of Robert Bar- 
low, of Barlow, in the 
same county. She sur- 
vived Cavendish, and 
married Sir William 
St. Lowe, and George 
6th Earl of Shrews- 

1. Frances, 
Wife of Sir 
Henry Pier- 

2. Elizabeth, 
Wife of Charles 
Stuart, Earl of 

3. Mary, 

Wife of Gilbert 
Talbot, Earl of 


Supposing that the reader is convinced by origin of 
the preceding evidence and arguments^ that taken ap- 
this work could not be the production of Sir SfSkwork. 
William Cavendish, and that he was not the 
faithful attendant upon Cardinal Wolsey, I 
shall give him credit for a degree of curiosity 
to know how it happened that a story so far 
from the truth gained possession of the public 
mind^ and established itself in so many works 
of acknowledged authority. That desire I 
shall be able to gratify^ and will detain him but 
a little while longer^ when the disclosure has 
been made of a process by which error has 
grown up to the exclusion of truths in which 
it will be allowed that there is something of cu- 
riosity and interest Error, like rumour, often 
appears parva metu primdy but, like her also, 
vires acquirit eundo. So it has been in the 
present instance. What was at first advanced 
with all the due modesty of probability and 
conjecture, was repeated by another person 
as something nearer to certain truth : soon 
every thing which intimated that it was only 
conjecture became laid aside, and it appeared 
with the broad bold front in which we now 
behold it. 

The father of this misconception was no Kennet. 
other than Dr. White Kennet. In 1708, be- 
ing then only Archdeacon of Huntingdon, this 



Genealogy. It Ilbs bceii thought proper to annex the 
following geneal6gical table, which exhibits 
the relationship subsisting among the several 
members of the house of Cavendish whose 
names have been mentioned in the preceding 

Thomas Cavendish, 

Clerk of the Pipe. 

Wm dated 13th April, 1623. 

Died Dext year. 

«T=ALicE, daughter and heir of 
John Smith of Padbrook^ 
hall, CO. Suff. 

George, ^ 
of Glemsford and Ca- 
vendish, Esq. 
eldest son and heir, 
Gentleman usher to 
Cardinal Wolsey, and 
writer of hisLife. Bom 
about 1500. Died 
about 1661 or 1662. 

daughter of 
Wm. Kemp, 
of Spains- 
hall, Essex, 
niece to Sir 
Thos. More. 


Owner of the 
manor of Caven* 
dish 1662. 



of London, mer- 
cer. Sold Ca- 
vendish 1669. 

Sir William,' 
of North Aw- 
brey, and 
Knt. Auditor 
of the Court 
of Augmenta- 
tions, &c. Un- 
der age 1623. 
Died 1667. 

1. Henry, 



2. William, 
created Earl of 
Devonshire 16 
Jac. I. 1618. 

3. SirCe 

3. Sir CHARLES, 

father of William 
Duke of Newcas- 

'- Elizabeth (third 
wife, daughter of John 
Hardwick, of Hard- 
wick, co. Derby, Esq. 
widow of Robert Bar- 
low, of Barlow, in the 
same county. She sur- 
vived Cavendish, and 
married Sir William 
St. Lowe, and George 
6th Earl of Shrews- 

1. Frances, 
Wife of Sir 
Henry Pier- 

2. Elizabeth, 
Wife of Charles 
Stuart, Earl of 


3. Mary, 

Wife of Gilbert 
Talbot, Earl of 


Supposing that the reader is convinced by origin of 
the preceding evidence and arguments^ that taken ap- 
this work could not be the production of Sir SfSwork. 
William Cavendish, and that he was not the 
faithful attendant upon Cardinal Wolsey^ I 
shall give him credit for a degree of curiosity 
to know how it happened that a story so far 
from the truth gained possession of the public 
mind^ and established itself in so many works 
of acknowledged authority. That desire I 
shall be able to gratify^ and will detain him but 
a little while longer, when the disclosure has 
been made of a process by which error has 
grown up to the exclusion of truth, in which 
it will be allowed that there is something of cu- 
riosity and interest Error, like rumour, often 
appears parva metu primdy but, like her also, 
vires acquirit eundo. So it has been in the 
present instance. What was at first advanced 
with all the due modesty of probability and 
conjecture, was repeated by another person 
as something nearer to certain truth: soon 
every thing which intimated that it was only 
conjecture became laid aside, and it appeared 
with the broad bold front in which we now 
behold it. 

The lather of this misconception was no Kennet. 
other than Dr. White Kennet. In 1708, be- 
ing then only Archdeacon of Huntingdon, this 



Genealogy. It has been thought proper to annex the 
following geneal6gical table^ which exhibits 
the relationship subsisting among the several 
members of the house of Cavendish whose 
names have been mentioned in the preceding 

Thomas Cavendish, < 
Clerk of the Pipe. 
Wm dated 13tfa April, 1523. 
Died next year. 

■AhicE, daughter and heir of 
' John Smith of Padbrook^ 
hall, CO. Suff. 

George, < 
of Glemsford and Ca^ 

vendish, Esq. 
eldest son and heir. 
Gentleman usher to 
Cardinal Wolsey , and 
writer of hisLife. Bom 
about 1500. Died 
about 1561 or 1562. 

daughter of 
Wm. Kemp, 
of Spains- 
hall, Essex, 
niece to Sir 
Thos. More. 


of North Aw- 
brey, and 
Knt Auditor 
of the Court 
of Augmenta- 
tions, &c. Un- 
der age 1523. 
Died 1557. 

: Elizabeth (third 
wife, daughter of John 
Hardwick, of Hard- 
wick, co. Derby, Esq. 
widow of Robert Bar- 
low, of Barlow, in the 
same county. She sur- 
vived Cavendish, and 
married Sir William 
St. Lowe, and George 
6th Earl of Shrews- 


Owner of the 
manor of Caven- 
dish 1562. 



of London, mer- 
cer. Sold Ca- 
vendish 1569. 

1. Henry, 



2. William, 
created Earl of 
Devonshire 16 
Jac. I. 1618. 

1. Frances, 
Wife of Sir 
Henry Pier- 

2. Elizabeth, 
Wife of Charles 
Stuart, Earl of 


3. Sir Charles, 

father of William 
Duke of Newcas- 


3. Mary, 
Wife of Gilbert 
Talbot, Earl of 


Supposing that the reader is convinced by origin of 
the preceding evidence and arguments^ that taken &p. 
this work could not be the production of Sir owlstork. 
William Cavendish, and that he was not the 
faithful attendant upon Cardinal Wolsey, I 
shall give him credit for a degree of curiosity 
to know how it happened that a story so far 
from the truth gained possession of the public 
mind^ and established itself in so many works 
of acknowledged authority. That desire I 
shall be able to gratify^ and will detain him but 
a little while longer^ when the disclosure has 
been made of a process by which error has 
grown up to the exclusion of truth, in which 
it will be allowed that there is something of cu- 
riosity and interest Error, like rumour, often 
appears parva metu primdy but, like her also, 
vires acquirit eundo. So it has been in the 
present instance. What was at first advanced 
with all the due modesty of probability and 
conjecture, was repeated by another person 
as something nearer to certain truth: soon 
every thing which intimated that it was only 
conjecture became laid aside, and it appeared 
with the broad bold front in which we now 
behold it. 

The father of this misconception was no Kennet. 
other than Dr. White Kennet. In 1708, be- 
ing then only Archdeacon of Huntingdon, this 



Genealogy. It hos been thought proper to annex the 
following geneal6gical table^ which exhibits 
the relationship subsisting among the several 
members of the house of Cavendish whose 
names have been mentioned in the preceding 

Thomas Cavendish, 

Clerk of the Pipe. 

WiU dated 13th April, 1623. 

Died next year. 

b^Al^ce, daughter and heir of 
John Smith of Padbrook^ 
hall, CO. Suff. 

George, « 
of Glemsford and Ca- 
vendish, Esq. 
eldest son and heir, 
Gentleman usher to 
Cardinal Wolsey , and 
writer of hisLife. Bom 
about 1500. Died 
about 1561 or 1562. 

daughter of 
Wm. Kemp, 
of Spains- 
hall, Essex, 
niece to Sir 
Thos. More. 


of North Aw- 
brey, and 
Knt. Auditor 
of the Court 
of Augmenta- 
tions, &c. Un- 
der age 1623. 
Died 1557. 

: Elizabeth (third 
wife, daughter of John 
Hardwick, of Hard- 
wick, CO. Derby, Esq. 
widow of Robert Bar- 
low, of Barlow, in the 
same county. She sur- 
vived Cavendish, and 
married Sir William 
St. Lowe, and Greorge 
6th Earl of Shrews- 


Owner of the 
manor of Caven- 
dish 1562. 



of London, mer- 
cer. Sold Ca- 
vendish 1569. 

1. Henry, 


9 p. 

2. William, 
created Earl of 
Devonshire 16 
Jac. I. 1618. 

3. Sir Charles, 

father of William 
Duke of Newcas- 

1. Frances, 
Wife of Sir 
Henry Pier- 

2. Elizabeth, 
Wife of Charles 
Stuart, Earl of 

3? Ma 

3. Mary, 
Wife of Gilbert 
Talbot, Earl of 


Supposing that the reader is convinced by origin of 
the preceding evidence and arguments^ that taken &p- 
this work could not be the production of Sir K^ork. 
William Cavendish, and that he was not the 
faithful attendant upon Cardinal Wolsey, I 
shall give him credit for a degree of curiosity 
to know how it happened that a story so far 
from the truth gained possession of the public 
mind^ and established itself in so many works 
of acknowledged authority. That desire I 
shall be able to gratify, and will detain him but 
a little while longer, when the disclosure has 
been made of a process by which error has 
grown up to the exclusion of truth, in which 
it will be allowed that there is something of cu- 
riosity and interest Error, like rumour, often 
appears parva metu primdy but, like her also, 
vires acquirit eundo. So it has been in the 
present instance. What was at first advanced 
with all the due modesty of probability and 
conjecture, was repeated by another person 
as something nearer to certain truth : soon 
every thing which intimated that it was only 
conjecture became laid aside, and it appeared 
with the broad bold front in which we now 
behold it. 

The father of this misconception was no Kennet 
other than Dr. White Kennet. In 1708, be- 
ing then only Archdeacon of Huntingdon, this 

Ixii WHO WftOTE 

eloquent diirine published a sermon which he 
had delivered in the great church at Derby, 
at the funeral of William the first Duke of 
Devonshire. Along with it he gave to the 
world Memoirs of the Family of Cavendish, 
in which nothing was (Mnitted that, in his opi- 
nion, might tend to set off his subject to the 
best advantage. He lauds even the Countess 
of Shrewsbury, and this at a time when he 
was called to contemplate the virtues and aU 
womanly perfections of Christian Countess of 
Devonshire. It was not to be expected that 
he should forget the disinterested attendant 
upon Wolsey, and the ing^ious memorialist 
of that great man's rise and fall; whose woric 
had then recently been given to the public in 
a third edition. After reciting firom it some 
particulars of Cavendish's attendance upon 
the Cardinal, and especially noticing his faith- 
ful adherence to him when others of his do- 
mestics had fled to find a sun not so near its 
setting, he concludes in these words: ^To 
give a more lasting testimony of his gratitude 
to the Cardinal, he drew up a fair account of 
his life and death, of which the oldest copy is 
in the hands of the noble family of Pierrepoint, 
into which the author's daughter was married: 
for without express authority we may gather 
from circumstances^ that this very writer was 


the head of the present family; the same per- 
son with the immediate fomider of the present 
noble family^ William Cavendish of Ghats- 
wbrth, com. Derb. Esq.'' p. 63. 

The editors of the Peerages, ever attentive coiiins. 
to any disclosure that may add dignity to the 
noble families whose lives and actions are the 
subjects of their labours, were not unmindful 
of this discovery made by the learned Arch- 
deacon. The book so popular in this country 
under the name of Collinses Peerage was 
published by the industrious and highly re*- 
spectable Arthur Collins, then a bookseller 
at the Black Boy in Fleet-street, in a single 
volume, in the year 1709. In the account of 
the Devonshire family no more is said of Sir 
William Cavendish than had been told by 
Dugdale, and than is the undoubted truth ^» 
But when, in 1712, a new edition appeared, 
we find added to the account of Sir William 
Cavendish all that the Archdeacon had said 
of Mr. Cavendish, the attendant upon Wol- 
sey : but with this remarkable difference, aris- 
ing probably in nothing more blameworthy 
than inattention, that while Kennet had writ- 
ten ^for without express authority we may 
gather from circumstances, &c.'^ Collins says^ 

^ See page 84. 


^for with express authority we may gather 
from circumstances^ &c.^'' A third edition 
appeared in 1715, in two volumes^ in which 
no change is made in the Cavendish article^. 
In 1735 the Peerage had assumed a higher 
character, and appeared with the arms en- 
graven on copper-plates, in four handsome 
octavo volumes. In this edition we find the 
whole article has been recomposed; and we 
no longer hear of the gathering from circumr 
stances^ or the with or without express autho- 
rity; but the account of Sir William Caven- 
dish's connexion with the Cardinal is told 
with all regularity, dovetailed with authentic 
particulars of his life, forming a very compact 
and, seemingly, consistent story**. The only 
material change that has been introduced in 
the successive editions of a work which has 
been so often revised and reprinted, has arisen 
from the discovery made by some later editor, 
that my Lord Herbert had quoted the work 
as the production of a George Cavendish. 
The gentle editors were not however to be 

*7 See p. 100. *« Vol. i. p. 106. 

*^ Vol. i. p. 122. It is singular enongh that in this edition 
the name of the Cajtlinal's attendant and biographer, by a slip 
of the pen is written George, See line 38. It is plain from the 
connexion that this must have been an unintended blunder into 
the truth. It was duly corrected in the later editions. 

cavendish's wolsey? Ixv 

deprived of what tended in their opinion so 
much to the credit of the house of Cavendish, 
and rendered the account they had to give of 
its founder so much more satisfactory. With- 
out ceremony, therefore, they immediately put 
down the quotation to the inaccuracy and in- 
attention of that noble author. 

Having once gained an establishment in a The Bio 
work so highly esteemed and so widely dis- ^*^ ^ 
persed, and carrying a,primdfacie appearance 
of truth, it is easy to see how the error would 
extend itself, especially as in this country the 
number of persons is so small who attend to 
questions of this nature, and as the means of 
correcting it were not so obvious as since the 
publication of the ^Ecclesiastical Biography.'* 
But it assumed its most dangerous conse- 
quence by its introduction into the Biogra- 
phia. The greatest blemish of that extremely 
valuable collection of English lives seems to 
be that its pages are too much loaded with 
stale genealogy taken from the commonest of 
our books. Wherever Collins afforded them 
information, the writers of that work have 
most gladly accepted of it, and have 

whisper'd whence they stole 

Their balmy sweets/* 


by using in many instances his own words. 
His facts they seem to have generally assumed 
as indubitable. In the present instance nothing 
more was done than to new-mould the account 
given of Sir William Cavendish in the later 
editions of the Peerage, and, by an unprofit- 
able generalization of the language, to make 
his mixture of truth and fable more palatable 
to the taste of their readers. 
Bragg the Poor Arthur Collins was not the only book- 
seller who lock advantage of the learned 
archdeacon's unfortunate coigecture. There 
was one Bragg, a printer, at the Blue Ball in 
Ave Maria Lane, a man of no very high cha- 
racter in his profession, who published in 
1706 an edition of Cavendish's Life of Wol- 
sey, taken from the second edition by Dor- 
man Newman, and with all the errors and 
omissions of that most un&ithful impression. 
Copies were remaining upon his shelves 
when Kenneths sermon made its appearance. 
Rightly judging that this must cause inquiries 
to be made after a book, the production of 
one who was the progenitor of a person and 
family at that particular period, from a con- 
currence of circumstances, the subject of uni- 
versal conversation, he cancelled the anony- 
mous title-page of the remaining copies, and 

cavendish's wolsey? Ixvii 

issued what he called a * Second Edition,'* with 
a long Grab-street title begining thus : 

Sir Williain Cavendish's 

Memoirs of the life of Cardinal Wolsey, 


This has sometimes been mistaken for a really 
new edition of the work. 

And having thus adverted to the different Editions of 
editions, it may not be improper to add a few 
words on the impressions which have been 
issued of this curious biographical fragment 
Till Dr. Wordsworth favoured the public with 
his " Ecclesiastical Biography,'' what we had 
was rather an abridgement than the genuine 
work. But even in its mutilated form it was 
always popular^ and the copies were marked 
at considerable prices in the booksellers^ 

The first edition^ it is believed^ is that in 
4to, London^ 1641, for William Sheeres, with 
the title ^The Negotiations of Thomas Wool- 
sey, the great Cardinall of England, &c. com- 
posed by one of his own Servants, being his 
Gentleman-Usher.'' The second was in 12mo, 
London, 1667, for Dorman Newman, and is 
entitled ^The Life and Death of Thomas 
Woolsey, Cardinal, &c. written by one of his 
own Servants, being his Gentleman-Usher.'' 
The third is the one just mentioned in 8vo. 


London, 1706, for B, Bragg, and having for 
its title '^The Memoirs of that great Favourite 
Cardinal Woolsey, &c." It is supposed that 
it was first made public in order to provoke 
a comparison between Wolsey and the un- 
popular Archbishop Laud. These are the 
only editions known to the writer. 

It is printed in the form of notes to Grove's 
History of the Life and Times of Cardinal 
Wolsey^®, again in the Harleian Miscellaoy; 
and in the selection from that work. And last 
of all, it forms a most valuable part of the 
^Ecclesiastical Biography," published by Dr. 
The sup- It must not however be concealed that men- 
tion ©/ tion has been made of a still earlier edition 
than any of those above described. Bishop 
Nicholson, in his English Historical Library ", 
asserts that it was published at London in 

3*> Mr, Grove subsequently (in 1761) met with what he con- 
sidered *' an antient and curious manuscript copy written about 
one hundred and fifty years ago," and from this he printed an 
edition in 8vo, with a preface and notes, the advertisement to 
which bears the above date. It appears to be one of the rarest 
of English books, and was probably never published : the copy 
with which I have been favoured by Richard Heber, Esq. M. P. 
having no title page. There are other curious tracts in the 
volume on the subject of Wolsey, having separate titles bearing 
no bookseller's name, but purporting to be printed /or the Au- 
thor by Dryden Leach, and all in 1761. S. W. S. 

" 4to, 1776, p. 116. 



4to, 1B90; and in this he is followed by Dodd 
the Catholic historian. Nicholson's authority 
is not very high in respect of bibliographical 
information; and there is great reason to be- 
lieve that he has here described an edition to 
be found only in the BihUotheca abscandita 
of Sir Thomas Brown. This however is cer- 
tain^ that the commentators on Shakspeafe 
are agreed, that though the labours of Caven- 
dish must have been known in part to our 
great Dramatist, he has followed them so 
closely in many of his scenes, it could have 
been only by a perusa] of them in manuscript, 
or by the ample quotations made from them 
in the pages of Hollinshead and Stowe. Mr. 
Malone indeed expressly affirms that they 
were not seiit to the press before 1641. The 
earliest edition known to the editor of the 
Censura Literaria, whose intimate acquaint- 
ance with early English literature every one 
acknowledges, and whose attention has been 
peculiarly drawn to this work, was of that 
date. The catalogues, published and unpub- 
lished, of most of our principal libraries have 
been consulted, and no earlier edition than 
that of 1641 found in any one of them. No 
earlier edition than that is to be found in the 
Royal Library at Paris. It appears, there- 
fore, on the whole, most probable that though 


there are andoabtedly black-letter stores^ 
which the diligence of modem bibliomamacs 
has not brought to lights no sach edition ex^ 
ists^ as that which the author of the Eng^sh 
Historical Library tells us was published in 
the reign of Queen Elizabeth^ and during the 
height of the persecutions which she autho* 
rized against the Catholics. Under this per- 
suasion the preceding sheets have been coni- 

It is possible that Bishop Nicholson may 
have been misled by another work on the 
same subject; The Aspirings Triumph^ and 
Fall of Wolsey, by Thomas Storer, Student 
of Christ Church. This appeared in quartOy 
Conclusion. The writcr now lays down his pen with 
something like a persuasion that it will be 
allowed he has proved his two points^ — ^that 
Sir William Cavendish of Chatsworth could 
not have been the author of the Life of Wol- 
sey, and that we owe the work to his brother 
George Cavendish of Glemsford. The ne- 
cessary inference also is^ that the foundation 
of the present grandeur of the house of Ca- 
vendish was not laid^ as is commonly under- 
stood^ in an attendance upon Cardinal Wolsey, 
and in certain favourable circumstances con- 
nected with that service. The inquiry, even 


in all its bearings^ like many other literary 
inquiries^ cannot be considered as of very 
hig'h importance. The writer wiQ not how- 
ever affect to insinuate that he considers it as 
of no consequence. In works so universally 
consulted as the Biographia and the Peer- 
ages^ it is desirable that no errors of any 
magnitude should remain undetected and un- 
exposed* Error begets error, and truth be- 
gets truth: nor can any one say how much 
larger in both cases may be the offspring than 
the sire. I do not indeed scruple to acknow- 
ledge, that, tiiough not without a relish for 
inquiries which embrace objects of far greater 
magnitude, and a disposition jusdy to appre- 
ciate their value, I should be thankful to the 
man who should remove my uncertainty, as 
to whose countenance was concealed by the 
Masque de Fer, or would tell me whether 
Richard was the hunch-backed tyrant, and 
Harry ^ the nimble-footed mad-cap'' exhibited 
by our great dramatist; whether Charles 
wrote the Eacmv Ba<riXcict}, and Lady Packing- 
ton ^The whole Duty of Man." Not that I 
would place this humble disquisition on a 
level with the inquiries which have been in- 
stituted and so learnedly conducted into these 
several questions. In one material point, 
however, even this disquisition may challenge 


an equality with them. There is a mach 
nearer approach made to certainty than in 
the discussions of any of the abovementioned 
so much greater questions. 

There are amongst readers of books some 
persons whose minds being every moment 
occupied in the contemplation of objects of 
the highest importance, look down with con- 
tempt upon the naturalist at his leucapkr^, 
the critic at his /ucv and Sc work^ the astrono- 
mer at his nebuJ(By and the toiling antiquary 
at every thing. One word to these gentlemen 
before we part. To them may be recom- 
mended the words of a writer of our own day, 
a man of an enlarged and highly cultivated 
mind : — 

"He who determines with certainty a single 
species of the minutest moss, or meanest in- 
sect, adds so far to the general stock of human 
knowledge, which is more than can be said of 
many a celebrated name.' No one can tell of 
what importance that simple fact may be to 
future ages: and when we consider how many 
millions of our fellow-creatures pass through 
life without furnishing a single atom to aug- 
meut that stock, we shall learn to think with 
more respect of those who do." 














In the monyih of June, I lyeng sole alon 

Under the umber ^ of an oke with bowes pendant. 

Whan Phebus in Gremynys had his course overgon 

And entered Cancer, a sygne retrogradant. 

In a mean measure his beams radyant. 

Approaching Leo^ than mused I in mynd 

Of fykkeUness of Fortune and the course of kynd ^ ; 

How some are by fortune exalted to riches. 

And often such as most unworthy be ; 

And some oppresed in langor and sykness^ 

Some wayling, lakkyng welthe, by wretched povertie; 

Some in bayle and bondage, and ^me at libertie : 

With other moo gystes ^ of fortune varyable ; 

Some pleasant, some mean, and some onprofitable. 

' wnheTf i. e. sliade, ombre^ Fr. ^ hynd, is nature. 

' gysteSy or gests, are actiora, 



But after dewe serche and better advisement, 
I knewe by Reason that oonly God above 
Rewlithe thos thyngs, as is mpst convenyent, ;; 
The same devysing to man for his behove ^ : 
Wherefore Dame Reason did me persuade, and move 
To be content with my small estate. 
And in this matter no more to vestigate. 

Whan I had debated all thyng in my mjrnd, 
I well considered myne obscure bljrndnes ; 
So that non excuse could I see or fynd. 
But that my tyme I spent in idelnes ; 
For this me thought, and trew it is doughtles. 
That suice I ame a jreasonable creature, 
I pwght my reason and wytt to put in ure*. 

Than of what matter myght I devise to wright. 
To use my tyme and wytte to excercyse, 
Sithe most men haf e no pleasour or delight 

^ For his behove, for his hehocf or advantage. 

^ To put in ure^ i. e. to put in we. Thus in Ferrex and Porrex, 
by Sackyille : 

And wi9dotne willed me wi&out protract 
In speedie wise to put t|ie same in tare. 


In any history; without it sownd to vice : 
Alass ! shold I than, thait ame not young attide 
With lewed ballatts, faynt hafts to synne. 
Or flatter estatts^ some favor of them to wynnew 

What than shall I wright? the noble doughtyness 
Of estatts that used is how a dayes ? 
I shall than lak matter; for gredy covetousnes 
Of yayne riches, whidi: hathe^ stdpt aUithe ^wayes 
Of worthy chyvallry,thkfnpw;dfcyly sofe'dd&ayeS : . 
And yet thoughe scsne* behave them noMy/ . . W'J 
Yet some ther be that dayly doth the conirarjre. \" 

For some lovyth meat fynne and delicious^ 

And some baudye^ brothes, as their educasion hath be ; 

So some lovethe virtue, and some tales vicious: 

Sewerly suche tales (get ye non of me, 

But to eschewe all ociosite 

Of Fortune's fykeUnes) hereafter shall I wri^t. 

How greatest estatts she overthrowyth by myght. 

^ estatts, i. e. nobles, persons of rank or great estate. 

^ This word was used by our ancestors to signify any thing 
greasy or fiUhy; the revolutions of language have at length eon- 
fined it to one only of its ancient acceptations, that oi obscenity. 


Thoughe I onworthe this tragedy do begyne^ 
Of pardon I pray the reders in meke \iryse ; 
And to correct where they se fanlt therein. 
Reputing it for lak of connyng exercyse. 
The cause that moved me to this enterprise 
Especyally was that all estatts myght see 
What it is to trust to Fortune's mutabylitie. 

With pen and ynke I toke this work in hand, 

Redy to wright the deadly dole and whofull playnt 

Of them whose fall the world doth understand ; 

Which for feare made my heart to faynt : 

I must wright playn ; colours have I none to paynt ; 

But termes mde their dolours to compile ; 

An wofiill plaint must have an wofcdl style. 

To whome therefore for helpe shall I nowe call? 
Alas! Caliope my calling will utterly refuse ; 
For momyng dities and woo of Fortune's falle 
Caliope dyd never in hir dyties use ; j 

Wherefore to hir I might my self abuse : 
Also the Musis that on Pamasus syng 
Suche warblyng dole did never temper stryng. 


Now to that Lord whose power is celestial]. 
And gwydyth all thyng of sadnes and of blysse. 
With humble voyce to the I crie and call, 
That thou wouldest direct my sely^ pen in this: 
For, wantyng of thy helpe, no marvel thoughe I mysse ; 
And by thy grace, though my style be rude. 
In sentence playne I may foil well conclude. 

Nowe by thy helpe this hystory I will begyn. 

And from theffect varie nothing at all; 

For if I shold, it ware to me great synne 

To take uppon me a matter so substancyall. 

So waytie, so necessarie, of fame perpetuall : 

And thus to be short, oon began to speke 

With deadly voyce, as thoughe his hart wold breke. 


^ sely, i. e. nmple. 





K) Foktunk! (quod he) skold I on the complayn, L 
Or of my negligence, that I snsfeyn this smart? 
Thy doble visage hathe led me to this trayn; 
For at my begjmnyng thou dydst ay take my part, . . 
TJntill ambysion had puffed up my hart 
With vainglory, honor, and usurped dignytie, 
Forgettyng cleane my naturall mendydtie. 

From povertie to plentie, which now I see is vayn, 

A cardinal I was, and legate de latere, 

A byshope, and archbysshope, the more to crease my 

Chauncellor of Englond, Fortune by hir false flatterie 
Dyd me advance, and gave me suche auctorytie 
That of hyghe and low I tbke on me the charge. 
All England to rewle, my power extendyd large. 

f. -f 




Whan Fortune with favor had set me thus aloft, 
I gathered me riches; suffisance could not content; 
My fare was superfluous, my bed was fyne and soft; 
To have my desiers I past not what I spent: 
In yerthe, such abondaunce Fortune had me lent, 
Yt was not in the world that I could well requier. 
But Fortune strayt wayes did graunt me my desier. 

My byldyngs somptious, the rofies with gold and byse^ 
Shone lyke the sone in myd day spere, 
Craftely entaylled^ as connyng could devise. 
With images embossed, most lively did appere; 
Expertest artificers that ware both farre and nare. 
To beautyfie my howssys, I had them at my will: 
Thus I wanted nought my pleasures to fidMll^ 

My galleries ware fayer ; both lai^ and long 
To walke in them whan that it lyked me best; 
My gardens sweet, enclosed with walles strong, 
Enbanked with benches to sytt and take my rest: 

' gold and hyte^ is gold and purple. 

* efUayUed, i. e. carred, vide vol. i. p. 233. 


The knotts so enknotted, it cannot be exprest^ 
With arbors and alyes so pleasaunt and so dulce. 
The pestylent ayers with flavors to repulse. .'^ ^ ' 

My chambers gamysht with arras fynne, 
Importyng personages of the lyvelyest kjrnd: 
And whan I was disposed in them to dynne^ 
My clothe of estate there ready did I fynd, 
Fumysshed complett according to my mynd; 
The subtyll perfumes of muske and sweet amber. 
There wanted non to perfume all my chamber. 

Plate of all sorts most curiously wrought. 

Of facions new, I past not of^ the old. 

No vessell but sylver before me was brought. 

Full of dayntes vyands, the some cannot be told; 

I dranke my wynne alwayes in sylver and in gold: 

And daylye to serve me, attendyng on my table, 

Servaunts I had bothe worshipfull and honorable. 

^ This is no iminteresting picture of the seclusion desired by 
our ancestors in the old geometric style of gardening. Of this 
curious knot-garden of Wolsey the remains are still to be seen at 
Hampton Court, the maze there forming part of it. 

^ Ipati ru^ cf, i. e. I cared not for. 



My crosses twayne of sylver long and greate, 

Th^t dayly byfofe me ware earned hyf^e^ 

Upon great horses, opynly in the strete. 

And massie pillars glorionse to the eye. 

With pollaxes gyjt, that no man dnrst come nyghe 

My presence, I was so prynoely to bcliold, 

Ridyng on my mnle trapped in sylver and in gold. 

My legantyne prerogatsrve was myche to myn avayle. 
By vertue whereof I had thys high preemynence : 
All vacant benefices I did' them strayt retaylle, 
Presentyng than my clarke, as sone as I had intelly- 

I prevented the patron, ther vaylled* noTesistence; 
All bysshopes and prelates durst not oons denay. 
They doughted so my power, ihey my^t not dysobey. 

Thus may you see how I to riches did attayne. 
And with suffisaunce my mynd was not content; 
Whan I had most, I rathest^ wold complayne; 
For lake of good, alas! how I was blent ^! 
Where shall my gatheryngs and good be spent? 

^ myUed, availed. ^ ratkett^ L e. soonest. ^ blmt, i. e^ hKnd. 


Some oon, perchance^ shall me thereof dyscharge^ 
Whom I most hate, and spend it owt at larger 

Sytting in Jugement, pTarcy all )ware iny doomes; Xt^^^^J 

I spared non estatte, of hyghe or low degree; ^'^Li^,^A * 

I preferred whom me lyst, exaltjmg symple gromes * 

AboTe the nobles; I spared myche the spritualtie^ 

Not passyng myche on the temperaltie; 

Promotyng such to so hyghe estate 

As unto prynces wold boldly say chek-mate. . 

Oon to subdewe that did me always favor, , , ^ j U^-^-- 

And in that place another to ayaunce, 

Ayenst all trewthe, I did my busy labor, 

Aod, whilest I was workyng witty whiles in Fraunce^ / ; 

I was at home supplanted, where I thought most 

. assuraonce: 
Thus who by fraud fraudelent is found, r -^^ 

Fraud to the defrau^er will aye reboimd. 

" This is a version of the concluding passage of the Life of 
the Cardinal. 


Who wiSi^j^th fraude often is disceyved; 

As in a «i^^> ye may behold in me; 

F^or by disceyi, or I had it perceyved, 

I was disceyred: a guerdon mete parde 

For hyme that wold^ ayenst all equite, 

Dysceyve the innocent, that innocent was in deede; 

Therefore Justice of Justice ayenst me must proceede. 

For by my subtill dealyng thus it came to passe, 
Cheafely disdayned, for whome I toke the payn; 
And than to repent it was to late, alas! 
My purpose I wold than have changed fayn; 
But it wold not be, I was perceived playn: 
Thus Venus the goddesse that called is of love 
Spared not with spight to bryng me from above. 

Alas! my soverajrn Lord, thou didest me avaunce. 
And settest me uppe in thys great pompe and pryde. 
And gavest to me thy realme in govemaunce; 
Thy pryncely will why did I set aside. 
And followed myn own, consideryng not the tyde. 
How after a floode an ebbe comyth on a pace? 
That to consider, in my tryhumphe I lakked grace. 


Now fykkell Fortune tomed hathe hir whele^ 

Or I it wyst^, all sodenly^ and down she did me cast; 

Down was my hed, and upward went my hele^ / c 

My hold faylled me theft I thou^t ^uer and fast: 

I se by experience, hir fevor doth not last; 

For she full low now hath brought me under. 

Though I on hir qomplayn, alas! it is no wonder. 

I lost myne honor; my treasure was me beraft; ^ ' 
Fayn to avoyd, and quykly to geye place, 
Symply to depart, for me nothing was laft, 
Without penny or pound I lived a certyn space, 
Untill my soverayn Lord extendyd to me his grace; 
Who restored me sufficient, if I had byn content 
To mayntayn myjti estate, both of lond and rent. 

Yet, notwithstanding, my corage was so hault, 
Dispight of mine enemyes rubbed me on the gall^ 
Who conspyred together to take me with asault; 
They travelled without triall to geve me a fall: 
I therefore entendyd to trie my frends all; 
To forrayn potentates wrott my letters playn, 
Desireng their ayd, to restore me to favor againe. 

» icy«*, i.e. knew. 



Myn ennoinyes^ pierceiviiig^ caught thereof dysdayn^ 
Dougfatyng: the daynger/dreamed on the doagfat; 
In counceU ccpisulting^ my sewte to restrayn^ 
Accused me of treason, and biftu^ it so about 
That, traveping to my trial, or I cofdd trie it owte, 
DeiEith with his dart strake me for the nons^^. 
In Leicester, Ml lowe, wtieie ii6we lyeth my boons* 

Loo, npwe you may see what it is. to trust 
In worldly vanytics thatvoydyth with the wynd j 
For death in a moment consumeth all to dust: 
No honor, no giory, that ever man cowld fynd^ 
But Tyme with hy s tyme pujbtytiii all out of mynd ; 
For Tyme in breafe tyme dusky th the hystory 
Of them thslt long tymelyved in glory;. 

Where is my tombe that I made. for the nons. 

Wrought of .^nne coj^r, that cost many a pound. 

To cQUche in iny carion and my rotten boons ? 

All is but vayn-glory, now have I found. 

And small to the purpose, when I am in the ground; 

What doth it avaylle me, all that I have, 

Seyng I ame deade and layed in my grave? 

'^ for the nons, or nonce, for iLe purpose. 


Farewell Hampton C!oitrt> whos fonnder I was; 
FareweU Westminster Place^ now a palace royall; 
Farewell the Moore^ let Tjrnnynainger^^ passe; 
FareweU^ in OxfcHrd, my college cardynall; 
Farewell^ in Ipsewich^ my schole gramaticall: 
Tet eaoB farewell, I say, I shall you never see; 
Your $omptions byldyng, what now avayllethe me? 

What avayllyth my great aboundance? 
What is nowe left to helpe me in this case? 
Nothing at all but dompe in the daunce. 
Among deade men to trjrppe on the trace; 
And for my gay housis now have I this place 
To lay in my karcas, wrapt in a sheete, 
Knjrtt with a knott at my hed and my feete. 

What avayleth now my feather bedds soft. 

Sheets of Raynes^^ long, large, and wide, '^ ' 

And dyvers devyses of clothes chaynged oft; 

" This is Tittenhanger, in Hertfordshire, which Wolsey held as 
Abbot of St. Albans : there was formerly a palace belonging to 
the Abbots of St. Albans there. The Moore was also in Hertford- 

'* Sheets of Raynes. The fine linen used by our ancestors is 
frequently called cloth of Raynet. Rennes in Brittanny was for- 



Or vicious chapleyns walkii^^ by my syde^ 
Voyde of all vertiie, fnllfiUed with pryde, 
WMch bathe eaused me^ by report of isifebe fltiHie> 
For ther myslyyyng to have an yll name* 

This is my last co^playnt, I can say yoa no nM»e> 
Bttt fareweU my (servant that faythefliU bathe be; 
. Note well these words, quod he, I pray the therfore. 
And Wright them thus {dayn, as I have told them the. 
All which is trewe, thou knowest well, parde; 
Thou fayUedst me not, unttll that I dyed. 
And now I must depart, I maye no longer byde! 


merly celebrated for its mftniifiM^tare of fine linea* la the eliitt&e* 
ration of the cardinal's treasures at Hampton Conrt, many pieces 
of cloth of Raynes are mentioned. In the Old Phrase Book, 
entitled Vulgttia, by W. Bonnaa, 1619| is tfa« foOowing ptKKtage. 
'^ He weareth a shnrte of Raynis ivhan curser wold serve him/^ 



When he his tale had told^ Hiiid in senteiice. 
His doloiioiis pla]^t strake me to the hd.ft; 
Pjrtie also moved me to bewayll hiffofibficey 
And with Irfme to weepe, wheii I did advert 
In his adversite, how© I did not depart 
TyU mortal death had gevyn him his wound> 
With Trhom I trds prtoeht^ and layed hyme in t^ 

When I had wepte, and lamentyd my fyll^ 

With reason persuaded, to hold me <!;0ntent^ 

I espied certyn persons comyng me tyll^ 

Strangely disgwysed^ that greatly did lament^ 

And as me seemed^ this was ther intent^ 

On fortune to complayn^ their cause was not slender^ 

And me to requier their fall to remember. 

' comyng me tyll, i. e. coming toward me. 




Alas! quod the firsts with a foH hey; (Hxere, 
And countenance sad^ piteous^ and lamentable^ 
George Bulleyn I aine^ that now doth appere; 
Some tyme of Bochef<H:d Viscbunt honofable^ 
And now a vile wretch, most myserable^ 
That ame constrayned with dole in my visage. 
Even to resemble a very deadly image. 

€rod gave nie grace, dame Nature did hir part, , 
Endewed me with gyfts of natural qualities; 
Dame Eloquence also taughte me the arte 
In meter and verse to make pleasaunt dities^ 
And fortune preferred me to high dignyties 
In such abondance, that combred was my witt. 
To render Grod thanks that gave me eche whitt 

* Dame Eloquence also taught me tbe arte 
In meter and verse to make pleasaunt dities. 
The unfortunate brother of Queen Anne Boleyn, was distin- 
guished not only for the beauty of his person, but for the qualities 
of his mind : several of his poems are supposed to be published 
along with those of his distinguished friends the Bari of Surrey 


It hath not beeni k&owen nor seldome seen, . 
That any of my yeres byfore this day 
Into the privy conncell prefenred hath.been : 
My soverayn lord bi his chamber did me assay, 
Qr jeves thryes nine my life had past away; 
A rare thin^ suer seldom or never hard, 
So yopg a man so highly to be prefefrd. 

and Sir Thomas Wiat, in TottePs Miscellaby of Songs and Son- 
nettes, 1568. Que tonlyhas been pointed put, but that is of emi- 
nent beauty ; beginning — 

My lute, awake, perfonn the last 
Labour that thou and I shall waste. 

which may be found in Ellis's Specimens and other Miscellanies 
of Ancient Poetry. He is thus mentioned in a copy of verses by 
Richard Smith, prefixed to George Gascoigne's Poetical Works : 

Rochford clamb the stately throne 

Which muses hold in HelicoD^ 

This acocMnplisfaed nobleman is^tepre^ented as being the idol of 
the ladies in Henry's court. No greater blot perhaps is to be found, 
in the blood-stained annals of that capricious and self-willed tyrant) 
than the death of this nobleman and his sister. He was beheaded 
two days before the Queen, on the 17th of May, 1636, upon bare 
and unjust suspicion of criniinai intimacy with her. Cayendisfa, 
like a devout catholic, thinks his fate not unmerited, and hints 
obscurely at the cause for which he suffered : the predilection which 
Aime Boleyn shouted for the doctrines of the^ B^foi^n^tion has 
caused him to treat her and those connected with her fate as cri* 
nnnals justly deserving punishment. 


In this my iv^eltha I had God cImp fotgoU 

And my sensnall ftpetyte I did always ensew^^ 

Esteming in my self tb^ thyng that I had Mt, 

SuiBcient grace this channce for to esehewe. 

The contrary, I perceyv^, cansithe me now to lewe; 

My folly was such that vartne I set asyde^ 

And forsoke God tbat should hi^ve been my gwyde. 

My lyfe not chaste, my lyvyng bestyall; 
I forced wydowes, maydens I did deflower. 
All was oon to me, I spared none at all. 
My appetite was all women to devoore. 
My study was both day and hower^ 
My ooleafiiU lechery how I might It M&}, 
Sparyng no woman to have on hyr my wyll. 

AUthoughe I before hathe both seene and rede 

The word of God and scrfptores of anctoritie. 

Yet could not J resist thi^ (mleAilI deede* 

^or dreade the domes of Grod in my prosperitie; 

Iiet myn estatte, theictfoie, a myrror to you be. 

And in your mynd my dolors comprehend 

For myne oflfences how God hath made dissend. 


Se how fortune cm alter and change hir tyde. 
That to me bat Idte could be bo ^ood aod favorable. 
And at this proimt to )frot>me and 9et me tbu« asida, 
Which tboug^te byr whele to stand both firme and 

Now have I found hyr very froward and mutaUe; 
Where $he was firehdly now she fe at discord. 
As by experience of me Viscount Rocheford. 

For where God list to punysh a man of right. 
By mortal sword, farewell all resistence; 
When grace faylyth, honor hath no force or myght. 
Of nobilitie also it defacyth the high preeniinence. 
And changythe their power to feeble impotence; 
Than tomyth fortune hyr whele most spedely 
Example take of me for my lewde avoultrie. 

All noblemen, therefore, with stedfast hart entyer, 
Lyft up your corages, and think this is no fable ; 
Thoughe ye sit high, conceive y t in your chere. 
That no worldly prynce in yerthe is perdurable; 
And since that ye be of nature reasonable. 
Remember in your welthe, as thyng most necessary. 
That all standythe on fortune when she listeth to vary. 


Alas! to declare my life in every effect. 
Shame restraynyth me the playnes to confess. 
Lest the abhomynation wold all the world enfect: 
Yt is so vile, so detestable in words to expresse. 
For which by the lawe condempned I am dongfatlesse^ 
And for my desert, justly juged to be deade; 
Behold here my body, but I have lost my hed. 



Another was there redy ta complayne 
Of his evyll chaunce^ crying owt, alas! 
And said of all grace^ no man more barayn 
Than he was^ that in his time so happie was. 
And now onhappie fortune hath brought to pass^; 
That where most happiest he was but of late. 
Now most onhappiest fortune hath tomed hir date. 


With welthe, worshipe, and houge aboundaunce, 
My soverayn lord extendyd his benygnytie: 
To be grome of his stoole he did me avaunce. 
Of all his privie chamber I had the soverayntie; 
Offices and romes he gave me great plentie: 

' Henry Norris was groom of the stole to the king; Weston 
and Brereton were of the king's privy chamber; as was also Mark 
Smeeton, though of infiurior rank, being a musician. These unfor- 
tunate men were fixed upon as having most of the queen's coun- 
tenance and favour. The three first were men of family, and no 


Horsys, hawks, and hounds, I had of eche sort, 
I wanted nothii^ that was for my disport 

Of welthy life I dought it never a W3rtt, 

Thou knewest w^ I had, and theiraof no nuui mofPfit' 

All things of pleoAore unto my fantne Ait, 

Till ambyssion Uyndyd me that I forthinke sore. 

From the midst of the 3tieme drytyn to the shore; 

From welthy I say, alas \ to wretcbedfiess bM waylynff. 

For my mysdemenor to God and to (ke kyi^. 

My chaimce was such I had all thyng at wyll. 
And in my welthe I was to hym onkynd^ 
That thus to me did all my mynd fiilfyll. 
All his benjrvolence was clean owt of mynd: 
Oh, alas! alas! in my hart how cowld I fynd 
Ayenst my soverayn so secretly to conspier. 
That so gently gave me all that I desier. 

menaces or hopes of pardon could prevail on them to criminate 
their gracious mistress: Smeeton was induced, by promises of 
favour, to confess that he had been erindnally familiar with her; 
but, from the circumstance of his having never been confronted witk 
the queen, and the measures used to prevail on htoi to confess, 
renders his testimony' more than suspicious. 


His most noUe hart laiaiented so iny chamicd. 
That of his cleanency he granted me my lyfe^ 
In case I wold, without dissimulannce^ 
The trouthe declare of his onchaste vryfe^ 
The spotted queen, causer of all his stryfe ^ ; 
But I most obstynate, with hart as hard as stone, 
Denyed his graet, good cause therefore to modie. 

To sighe, to sobbe, it ware but wast; 

To weep, to waylle, or to lament, 

Tt will not preyayle; H^e tywe is p^st: 

Alas! in tsrme why did I not prevent 

The rage and fury of fortunes male intentt 

But then I did as now all other do> 

In tym^ of welthe let all these thoughts goo. 

* Sir William Kingston, Lieutenant of the Tower, in a letter to 
Cromwell, cited by Strype, vol. i. p. 281, says, MrSf Covins, a 
gentlewoman appointed to wait upon the queen here, and that lay 
on her palate bed, said, that Norris did say on Saturday last unto 
the queen's amner, that he would swear for the queen that she was 
a good woman. And then the said gentlewoman added, speaking 
to the queen, (as minding to inquire of her concerning the occasion 
of her present trouble), Madam, why should there be any such 
matters spoken of? Marry, said the queen, I bade him do so; for 
I asked him why he did not go through with his marriage ? and^ 
he made answer, that he would tarry a time. Then said she, you 
look for dead men's shoes; for if aught should come to the king 


Who is.more willfiill than he that is in welthe? 
Who is more folishe than he that shold be wysel 
Who syknes soner doth forget than be that hath his 

Or who is more blynd than he that hath two eyes? 
Who hath most welthe doth fortane most dispisd ; 
Even so dyd I for whant of Goddis grace: 
What now remayneth but sorrow in thys case? 

but good, you would look to haye me. Then he said — if he should 
have any such thought, he would have his head cut off. And then 
she said — she could undo him if she would. And therewith they 
fell out. 

Such were the means resorted to, to obtain from the queen's own 
mouth some ungruarded words which might iqppear like a crimiiia- 
tion of herself. But her solenm protestations of innocence, under 
the most aWful circumstances, should surely have more weight 
than the slight and very suspicious evidence, if eyidence it may be 
called, against her. 

I have elsewhere remarked upon the prejudices of Cavendish, 
who, in common with other good Catholics, saw nothing but the 
most criminal propensities in one who was heretically inclined and 
a favourer of heretics. One of the strongest circumstances in 
favour of the innocence of the queen, is that of Henry having 
offered Sir Henry Norris, for whom he appears to have had some 
affection, a free pardon if he would confess what he knew to cri- 
minate her; to which Norris replied, that he believed the queen 
innocent, and knew of nothing which he could lay to her charge. — 
Godwin* s Annals, p, 58. 


Sometyme in trusty aud now a traytor found; 
Sometyme fiill nighe^ but now I stand afarre; 
Sometyme at Ilbertie^ and now in prisoii bound; 
Sometyme in office, and now led to the baire: 
TThe rigor of the lawe justice will not deferre, 
But for myn offences syth needs that I must die; 
Farewell my frends, loo helplesse here I lye. 



Nbxt hyme foUowed an other that was of that band. 
With teares bespraynt^ and color pale as lead, 
Yt was Weston the wanton^ ye shall understand^ 
That wantonly lyved without feare or dreade ; 
For wyll without wytt did ay his brydeD leade, 
Followjrng his fantzy and his wanton lust. 
Having of mysfortune no maner mystmst 


FoRTUN B (quod he) not so, but not fearyngGod above. 
Which knowyth the depthe of every man's mynd. 
Whom I forgot to serve in dread and in love 
By wanton wyll, fos that I was so biynd. 
Which caused my welthe full soon to outwynd ; 

' betpraynt, or besprent; besprinkled. 

* From a letter of Sir William Kingston's to Cromwell, dted 
by Lord Herbert, Burnet, and Strype, it appears that the queen 
was more apprehensive of Sir Francis Weston than of any other 
person, because he had once said to her '^ that Norris came more 
to her chamber upon her account than for any body else that was 


And cheafe of all, and most to be abbon!. 
For my uiikyn4iies arf engt my sovcvayft lof d. 

Beyng bat yoan^ , and «kattt oixt of tbe lEAiell^ 
I was dayntely tiorpibed imdeir the kliig^s wyng. 
Who highly favored me and loved me so well 
That I had all my will and fai»t bi every thyifg^ 
Myndyng nothing lesse than channce of my endyng; 
And for my detbe Aat present is nowe hcce^ 
I looked not for, this fyviBftie or threscore yere« 

My lust and my wyll ware knytt in alyannee. 
And my wyll folowed Inst in all his desier $ 
When lust was lusty^ wyll did hyme advannce 
To tangle me with ItLSl where my Inst did ret^nier: 
Thns wyll and hot lust kyndeled me the fier 
Of filthy concupicence, my youth yet but grean 
Spared not, my lust presumed to the queene. 

there f and not aa he pretended, to woo Madge, one of her maids. 
And when upon another occasion she had spoken with Weston, 
reproving him for appearing to love a kinswoman of hers (Mrs. 
Skelton) more than his own wife; he answered her, '^that there 
were women in the house that he loved better than them both:'' 
and the queen inquiring who that might be, he answered, '' It is 
yourself;" upon which she defied him in scorn and displeasure, as 
reflecting upon h^r honour. 


And for my lewd Inst my will iA now shent^ 

By whom I was ruled in every motion. 

Now wyll and lust makyth me sore to repent ; 

That wyll was my gwyd, and not sad^ discression. 

Therefore agenst wyll I ame brought to correction ; 

Who folowyth lust his will to obeye 

May chaunce to repent, as I do this day* 

Lust then gave cause why will did consent 
Willfully to rage, where wytt shold restrayn 
So highly to presume ; to fumyshe his intent 
Will was to sawcy, and wold not refirayn, 
Havyng no regard to pryncely disdayn ; 
Wherefore by Justice now hither am I led 
To satisfie the cryme with the losse of my hed« 

^ shetUy i. e. punished. ^ sad, grave, sober. 



Then. appeared an other his diannce to declare^ 
And sayd, that fortune hathe gevyn hyme a fall, 
THuch sowced hyme in sorrowe, and ccMnbred hyme 

with kare ; 
Yt avayllyth hyme nothyng to crye and to call, 
For.frends hathe he.none, their helpe is but small 
To socoure hyme nowe : loo, what it is to trast 
To fykkyll fortune when Ae dothe chaynge her lust. 


But late I was in welthe^ the world can it record, 

Floryshyng in favor, freshly beseen, 

Gentilman of the chamber with my soverayn lord. 

' WiUiam Brereton, Esq. one of ihe gentlemen of the king's 
priyy chamber. 

* wekhe, i. e. weal, or prosperity*. 



Tyll fortune onwares hath disceyred me clean. 
Which pynchethe my hart, and robbyth me on the 

To thynk on my fall ; remembryng myn estate 
Renewyth my sorowe, my repentance comyth to late. 

Furnished with romes ^ I was by the kyng. 
The best I ame sewer he had in my contrie; 
Stew£^rd of the Holt, a rome of great W3^nnyng 
In the marches of Wales, the which he gave to me. 
Where of tall men I had sewer great plentie 
The kyng for to serve, both in town and feld. 
Redely fumyshed with horse, spere, and sheld. 

God of his justice, forsesrng my malice. 
For my busy rigor wold punyshe me of right 
Mynestred unto Eton*, by color of justice: 
A shame to speke, mpre shame it is to wright ; 
A gentilman bom, that thorowghe my myght 
So shamefully was hanged upon a gallowe-tree, 
Oonly of old ranker that roted was in me. 

3 romeSf i. e. places. 

^ Who this Eton was, and for what cause he was hanged I have 
not elsewhere found any mention. 

BY 6£Q|tG6 CAYliNPlgH. 3& 

Now the lawe hath taught me justice to know. 

By dyvyn dome> Goddia word^sj to be tjrewe. 

Who strykythe with the sword the sword will over.- 

No man shall be able the dangeif to es^^hewe ; 
Thexperience in me shall give you a yewe. 
That rigor by rigor hath quit me my mede. 
For the rigor of justice dothe cause me to blede. 

Iioo, hejre is tb'end of miirder and tyranny ! 
Loo, here is th'end of envious affeccion ! 
Loo, here is th'end of false conspiracy ! 
Loo, here is th'end of false detection 
Don to the innocent by cruel correccion ! 
Althou^e in office I thought myself strong. 
Yet here is myn end for mynestryng wrong. 




Than came another, which had lyttU joye, • 
Sayeng, that some tyme I did hyme knowe 
In the cardinalV chapleyn a syngyng boy, 
Who humbly requeied me, and lowted ^ ftdl lowe 
To Wright his dekay, as last of this rowe; 
And that his desier I wold not refuse. 
For, by his confession, he dyd them all accuse. 


My father a carpenter, and labored with his hand. 
With the swett of his face he purchast his lyvyi^. 
For small was his rent, much lesse was his land ; 

' hwtedf i. e. bowed, from the Saxon Hlacu, to bend. Thus 
' Spenser: 

<* Tho, to him lowting lowfy, did begin, 

To plaine of wrongs which had committed bin.*' 

^ It appears that Smeeton after his confession was put into 
irons when in the Tower, an indignity not offered to the other pri- 
soners. The queen being told of this said it was because he was 
no gentleman ; she added, '' He was never at my chamber but 


My mptber in cottage used dayly spynnyntg; 
Lioo, in wlut mysery was my begymiyng. 
Till that gentil prynce, kyng of this realme, 
Toke me de stercore et prigens pauperenu 

And bejrng but, a boy^ clame nppe the hygh stage. 
That bred was pf naught, and brought to felicite. 
Knew not myself, waxt proud in my corage, 
Dysdayned my fath^, jand wold not hyme se ; 
Wherfore nowe Fortune by hir mutabilitie 

when the king was last at Winchester, and then I sent for him to 
play on the virginals ; for there my lodging was above the king^s ; 
and I never spake with him since, but apon Saturday before May- 
day, and then I found him standing in the round window in my 
chamber of presence; and I asked him why he was so sad? And 
he answered and said it was no matter. And then I said, You 
may not look to have me speak to you as I would do to a noble 
man, because ye be an inferior person. No, no, said he, a look 
sufficeth me ; and thus fare you well/' Strype observes, that this 
shows him to have been a haughty person, who thought the queen 
gave him not respect enough, and so might take this opportunity 
to humble, her, and revenge himself by this means on her, not 
thinking it would cost him his own life. Grafton relates that 
Smeeton " was provoked thereunto by the Lord Admirall (Fitz- 
Williams) that was after Erie of Southhampton, who said unto him. 
Subscribe Markes (meaning to a confession, criminating himself, 
the queen, and others), and see what will come of it/' Smeeton on 
account of his inferior rank was hanged, the others were be- 

38 M BTftlCAL VIBIOtie. 

Hathe made so crnelly hir power fo¥ to stietdi. 
For my presumption, to dye lyke a wt^tck 

Loo, what k is, firayle youth to advance 

And to set hyme uppe in welthy estate, 

Or^ sad discression had hym in goTcmanoe 

To brydell his hist, which now comes to late; 

And thoughe by great favor I lease Imt my pate, 

Yet deserved have I craelly to be maitied. 

As I ame jnged to be hanged, drawn, and quartred. 

' OVf i. e. before. 



In the myddys of my labor int^^ndyng to take regt^ 
Beyng fortossed ^ in tku my long travayl^ 
Disposed to pawse, I made me fhetto prest' ; 
But as I sat rnnsyng on Pdrtiind so frayl> 
A lady I saw sobbyng, that happe made to wayl^ 
Wryi^;yng of her hands^ hir voyoe she owt brayd, 
C<Hnpla3niyngon Fortone, tiies words to me Ae sayd. 


Alas, wretched woman, what shall I do olr say? 
And why, alas, was I borne this woo to snsteyn? 
Oh how infortnnat I ame at this day. 
That ray gned in joy, and now in endles payn. 
The world nnirersal hathe me in disdayn ; 
The slander of my name woll aye be grean, 
And called of edie man the most vicious qnene. 

■ fartoned, i. e. disquieted. * preit, is ready ; prAt, Fr. 


What nedythe me my name fcnr to reherce. 
For my feJl, I thynk, is yet fireshe in the mynd ; 
I dread my faults shall thy paper perce. 
That thus have lyved and byn to God oskynd ; 
Vices preferryng^ settyng vertoe behynd^ 
Hatfull to Crod^ to most men contraiye. 
Spotted with pride, viciousnes, and cruelty* 

Oh sorrowful! woman, my body and my soule 
Shall ever be burdened with slander detestable ! 
Fame in her register my defame woll enroll. 
And to race owt the same no man shall be able. 
My lyfe of late hathe byn so abhomynable ; 
Therfor my frayltie I may both curse and ban, 
Whissyng to Grod I had never known man. 

Who was more happier, if I had byn gradoos. 

Than I of late, and had moore my wyll. 

For my soverayn lord of me was so amorous 

That all my desiers he gladly did fulfyll ; 

My hosbond and sovirarayn thought in me no iU, 

He loved me so well, havyng in me great trust : 

I turned trust to treason, and he chayngd all his lust. 


The noblest prynce that raygned.on the ground 
I had to my hosbond^ he to hys wjrfe ; 
At home i^ith my father a maiden he me found. 
And for my sake of pryncely prerogatyfe : 
To an erle he advanced my father in his lyfe. 
And preferred all them that ware.of my blopde ; 
The most willyngest prynce to do them all good. 

Whan Fortune had displayed abrode my freshe^sayle, 
AlsOvhad arryved me in the most joyfulLport, 
I thoughte that Fortune wold me never fayle. 
She was so ledy to avance all to my comfort ; 
But nowe, alas, she is as redy^my vice to transport, joy to great indignadon, 
Leavyng- me in the stormes of depe desperacion. 

I may be compared in every circtimstanoe 

To Ath'alia vthat destroyed Davytfaes lynne. 

Spared not.the blood by. cruel vengeance 

Of Goddis prophets; but brought them to rewyn : 

Murder askyth murder, by murder she did fynd. 

So in lyke wyse resystyng my quarell 

How many have dyed and ended parell. 


I was the auctor wky laww warn made 

For spekinf ayenst me, to daynger the inHOoent ; 

And with great othes I found owt the trade 

To burden mens concyence : tinis I did inTent 

My sede to advance; it was my full intent 

Lynnyally to succeed in this Emperilil crown : 

But howe sone hath God brooi^t my puriK>se down I 

Who that wdl presume a purpose to adiyve 
Without Goddis helpe their matteiB f<ff to frame, 
At thend they shall but skarsly thryve. 
And for ther enterprice receyve great tdame 
At Goddis hands, presumyng to the same 
Thexperyence in me, wantyng Groddis ayd. 
Wold mount aloft : how sone ame I dekayd! 

Yt had byn better for myn assuraunce 

To have led my lyfe m meke simplyssitie, 

Owt of all daynger of Fortune's dissemUaunce, 

Usyng my lyfe in wyfdy chastitie 

As other women, regardyng myn honestie ; 

Oh how mydie prayse is gevyn to thos 

That wold in no case ther chastitie loos. 

But well away, emnaote the i^tt 
Of my default shall, aye, spryng and be greatt ; 
For who, alas, can b^r a greater blott 
Than of such lyfe to bear the nanve oneleaa? 
My epitaphe shall be, — "The yicious quene 
Lyethe here, of late that justly lost bir bed, 
Bycaose that she did spott tke kyngis bed/' 

But God that dyd abhorre this lothesome deade. 
For that I was a quene and lyyed not chast 
Hathe spotted me, alas, and all my stede ; 
Oon for a pledge, here left behynd for ba^t' : 
Thus after swete sawce folowd an egere^ tast, 
A pajrment fyt, foil well as it apperes 
Dewe unto me for myh onjust desiers. 

Howhappyart thou,queneXane (thekyng*dnextwyfe), 
Whos fame from ferre dayly dotii rebound 
For usyng of thy chast and sober lyfe ; 

^ htuty i. c. based, bastard, air illegiliinate. 
^ egere^ i. e. eager, sbur, from Aigre, ¥9i* 


Allthoughe thou art deade and layed in the.gnmiid. 
Yet deathe wantithe power thy tame to confound ; 
For of thy chast sides perpetaally to record 
Sprong Kyng Edward, that swete and loyal lord. 

O lady most excellent, by.vertae stellefied, 
Assendyng the hevyns, where thou raynest aye. 
Among the goddes eternal, there to be deified. 
Perpetually to endure unto the last day ; 
And I, most wretched, what shall I do or saye? 
But humbly; beseche the, O Lord, for thy passion. 
That my i^rorthy deathe may be my crymes purgacion^. 

* " That my worthy deathe may be my ciymes purgadon/' 

The marriage of Hemy with Amie BuUen having led to the 
separation of this kingdom from the See of Rome, her memory 
has Gonsequenily always be«i vitaperated in all possible ways by 
every true son of the Catholic Church who has had occasion to 
advert to it. The unfoimded assertions and calumnies of Sanders 
and others have been propagated and dilated upon without mercy, 
or commiseration for the frailties of human nature. The Pro- 
testant writers have not however been wanting in zeal to defend 
ihe queen from all the unjust aspersions upon her character, and 
have almost considered her as a martyr to the cause of the re- 
formed church. They could not without injustice forget tiiat 

Gospel light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes. 


Now must I depart, there is non other boote ^ ; ^ 
Farewell, fayer ladies, farewell, all noble dames. 
That sometyme ware obedyent and kneled at myfoote, 
Eschewe detraction, preserve your honest names, 
Geve non occasion a sparke to kyndell flames ; 
Remember this sentence,' that is both old and trewe,^ 
''Who wfll have no ^oaoke the fier must nedes eschewed' 

Whether Anne was unfaithful to her marriage vow or not tnust 
now be placed among other historical paradoxes, which are themes 
of endless discussion, but at the same time the absence of direct 
and unstupicious evidence of her guilt is favourable to the more 
charitable conclusion. That she was indiscreet and indulged in 
familiarities with some of the male attendants upon her person, 
unbecoming her high station, there can be no doubt ; and a bare 
suspicion once awakened in such a mind as Henry's, added to the 
strong motive of unbridled passion for another who had taken 
Anne's place in his affections, will very well account for the unre- 
lenting severity with which he attempted to stamp infamy upon 
her and her innocent o^spring. Cavendish himself tells us that 
Wolsey said of him, ^' Rather than miss or want any part of his 
will or appetite he would put the loss of one half of his kingdom 
in dai^er, and that he had often kneeled before him the space of 
an hour or two to persuade him from his will and appetite, but 
could never bring to pass to dissuade him therefrom.** What wa^ 
the life of a mistress for whom he had conceived a distaste, or by 
whom he suspected he had been injured, to such a being, especially 
when opposing an obstacle to the accomplishment of his desires? 

^ There is none other boate, i. e. there is no help for it. 
Thus Shakspeare in King Richard II. Act I. Scene I. 
" Norfolk, throW'down ; we bid ; there is no hoot:* 


Farewell^moatgontinkyi^; farew^my lovyiif make^ ; 
Farewell the pienasaiit piynoe^ flower of all regally, 
Farewell moat pityfiill, and pitie on aie take; 
Regard my dodoroiis woo marcyAiIly with your eye, 
Howe for myn c^fonoea moat mekefy here I dye: 
Haroy, noble prynoe, I crav^ for myn offenee ; 
The sharped sword hathe made my leoenpenee. 

7 make, for nuUe, 



Fynyshyng hir dole mi wofiil cofi^bar^t* 

Ck>^cladp!lg ihe same with a ^onrowfiiU cotfeQloslQii, 

My hart lan^entii) by carcrfuU CQUfttrayiit^ 

To se fortime conceyye such an occa^ion^ 

A quene to overthrow from hir royal mancion; 

Havying no respect for hir highe renown^ 

But from hir estate thus cruelly to throwe down. 

Thus beyng astonyed with fortune's mutabilitie^ 

Who no man favoryth, of hyghe or low estate^ 

Hir assurance standyth not in any sewer tranquilities 

But^ at a soden blasts she sa]rthe to them chek-mate ; 

Then hir to resyst, alas ! it is to late, 

Sytting in this muse^ for sorow lakkyng brethe^ 

A nomber dyd appere that suffired paynes of dethe. 



Op parsons lamentable^ whome fortune did forsake. 
And left them in daynger of deathe and worldly shame. 
Whom she before encoraged boldly to undertake. 
As trajrtors, to rebell, deservyng that fowle name; 
Ther fame detestable, blowen abrode by fame: 
And for as myche as ther offences ware not all of oon 

Heave, therefore, the circumstance, ther name to you 


First I will ther names playn to you resite, 
Kepyng non order, but as they come to mynd: 
As Lord Hussy, Lord Darcy, and Constable the 

' In June, 1537, the Lord Darcy, the Lord Hussey, Sir Robert 
Constable, and Sir Thomas Percy suffered for rebellion. Lord 
Darcy at Tower Hill, Lord Hussey at Lincoln, Sir Robert Con- 
stable at Hull, and Sir Thomas Percy, with six others, at Tyboum. 
These insurrections had their origin in the opposition made to the 
forced loans called Subsidies. 


Lord Himgerford also, that wrodght ayenst kynd; 
And Lord Leonard 6rey% accused^ as I fynd, 
Wiongftdly, in Ireland, even of very spight: 
God send his accdsers as they deserved of right. 

Aske of the Northe^ ther captayn onkouthe^; 
Bygott and Buhner, Percy and Nevell, 
Lumly the yong, Lord Dacre of the Southed; 

^ '* The Lorde Leonarde Gray being indited of certaine pointes 
of treason by him committed, as was alledged against him, during 
the season that bee was the king's lieutenant in Ireland, to witte, 
for delivering his nephew Geralde Fitz Geralde, brother to Thomas 
Fitz Geralde, before executed ; and also for that bee caused cer- 
taine Irishmen to invade the landes of the king's friends, whom be 
favoured not. He pleaded guilty to the indictment, and was be- 
headed on Tower Hill the 28th of June, 1541. This nobleman, as 
be was come of high lineage, so was he a right valiant and hardy 
personage, having, in his time, doon his prince and country good, 
service, both in Ireland, France, and other places, greatly to his 
commendation, although now his hap was thus to loose his head." 

^ onkouthe, uncouthe, i. e. strange. 

^ Thomas Fines, Lord Dacre, Geo. Royden, John Fronds, 
and John Mantell, were hung at Tyboum, for killing one John 
Busbrig, in a fray, in the park of N. Pelham, Esq. at Laugbton, 
in Sussex. They suffered on the same day with Lord Leonard 
€hray. Lord Dacre was only four and twenty, and, according to 
Stowe, ** being a right towardly yomig gentleman, was by manie 



And Tempest also, that hay nous rebell; 
Fortescne, Dyngley, Roydon, Fronds, and Mantell; 
Also Carowe and Moore^ thank nights bothe twayne; 
For ther offences whom justice hathe slayn. 

Many moo ther ware tha^ stode in a rowte. 

Of priests and prelates, a byshop^ them among. 

For old pnstomes that than ware sought out; 

With weepyng and waylyng they tewned ther song. 

For certyn abuses sayd they used long: 

To tell you ther names, I cannot at this season. 

But let them alone, defamed with treason. 

sore lamented.'^ Sir John Neyell, and the others before enume- 
rated, suffered about the same time for rebellion. Robert Askb 
was the leader of this insurrection, and was hung in chains on a 
tower at York. Sir Francis Bigot and Sir John Bulmer, at 
Tyboum. Lady Bulmer was burnt in Smithfield. 

■ ^ Carowe and Moore, Sir Nidiolas Carew and Sir Thomas 
Moore, both beheaded in the reign of Henry YIII. The former 
was related to Anne Bullen, through their common ancestor Lord 
Hoo; he suffered on Tower Hil), March 3, \5M, the pains of 
high treason, for being engaged in a conspiracy (to place Cardinal 
Pole on the throne), with the Marquis of Exeter, the Lord Monta- 
cute, and Sir Edward Neville. A portrait and interesting memoir 
of Sir N. Carew will be found in Lyson's Environs of London, 
vol. i. p. 64. 

^ Fisher, Bishop of Rochester. 



Another there was^ of whome I neds must tell: 
Cromwell; all men hyme knewe as well as I: 
Which in my. mynd all others dyd excell . 
In extort jiower and insacyat tyrannye. 
First advanced to. be the kyng's seci:etaiye. 
And next set uppe on the toppe of the whele^ 
Made Erie of Essex and Lord privye scale. 


Than began he to speke: Such was myn adventure 
To be placed, quod he, in hyghe dign3rtie. 

' Cayen^ish, who saw the rise of his fellow-servant, and has left 
us a most interesting record of his conversation with him when he 
posted to the court determined * to make or mar/ as he expresses it, is 
not entirely, in the course of his narrative, without some querulous 
reflections upon the partial distribution of the favours of Fortune. 
But how must the sad catastrophe of Cromwell's sudden fall from his 
high eminence have reconciled him to his own more humUe course 




Wenyng* my auihoritie ever to endure, ^ 

And never to be trobled with non adversitie; 
But, I perceyve, with royal egles a kight may not flie; 
AUthoughe a jay may chatter in a golden cage. 
Yet will the eagles disdayne hys paroiti^ge. 

I rajrned and ruled in hyghe estimacion,. 
From office to office assendyng the degrees; 
First in the privye coiincell was my foundacion. 
And cheife secretary with all vantages and fees: 
Than folowed me sewters like a swarme of bees. 
Thus began fortune on me for to smyle ; 
I trusted hir so myche that she dyd me begyle. 

and happy tranquil retirement? The activity which Cromwell had 
used in suppressing religions houses and obliterating all remains of 
catholic superstition, his persecution of all who still dung to the 
faith of their forefathers, his unceasing endeavours in effecting the 
great work of the reformation, have rendered him obnoxious to the 
censure of all writers of the catholic persuasion. We cannot there- 
fore be surprised that Cayendish should accuse him of abusing the 
laws, and condemning men without trial, of wanting God's grace, 
or that he should think him only justly dealt with in having the 
measure he meted to others measured out to himself. This supple- 
ment to what he has said of him in the life of the cardinal their 
master will not be deemed void of interest. 

^ Ifimyng*, i. e. supposing or imagining. 


TTie' title of vlce-gerent I had in my styte. 
Governor of the prelacye and of the lawes devyne; 
Also master of the rolls I was, in short while; 
Thus began my glory to florish and to shyne. 
As thoughe fortune wold hjr whole to me resigne: 
Unto the state of baron Ae did me than advatmce, 
Andnext to an erle: thus was fortune's chaunce. 

In this hyghe estate I myght not long endure. 
Fortune did so chaynge hir ftivorable chore; 
She slipte away all sodenly as it hathe byn her ure, 
Hir covert coimtenance dyd than to me appere; 
I trusted hir to myche, I bought hir trust to. dere; 
She promysed me so fayer, that I could not beware 
Of hir disceytfuU bayte, till I was in hir snare. 

To Aman the Agagite I may be compared. 
That invented lawes God's people to confound; 
And for Mardocheus a galhowsse he prepared. 
To hang him theron, if he myght be found. 
Which he erected fyvetye cubytts from the ground, 
Wheron Mardocheus to hang was all his trust, 
Yet was hjrmself hanged on theme first. 


So wrought I, alas! with thelawes of this sealHie, : * 
Devised 4 law ayeust the accused^ 
Condempnyng without aiiswere,orhe<x)iild ustdearstand 
The ground of his otknc^, it ntyght not be refosed ; 
Thus straytly the^lawjesmy sabtill wytt abilsed: 
Therfor^ oon of the first, I ame tastyng on the payn; 
Such measure I meaiidred is nieasi^ed me again* 

I may therfore eonolnde, experience Ymik me tatig^t 
All is but vayn that man doth here invent; 
Ther-worldly wytt €r6d faryngylhoft to nanght. 
And with ther workes he is not well content 
Behold my dea&, than may it evydent^ 
That for my presumption, wantihg Goddis grace. 
My lyfe consumed is within !a short s|>aee. 

This is thend of my ccHOidaynt, I must therfor depart; 
Farewell, m)r firendsl farewell, tey foo^ all; 
Take of me ensample and plant it in yotnr hart. 
That suche lj*:e fortune may geve yon a. dyke fall; 
Consider well, theifor;ihat heie y^ be mortall; .; 
All thyng hath an end, whye do ye honors crave? 
Whan ye shall, as I ame, be covered with your grave. 



Thys late Lord Cromwell may wame you all 

That foremost ride aloft in the chafer. 

Not to trust to fortune^ that tomblethe as a ball. 

For chaunces uncerteyn, that of%en fall onware; 

To God, se first, your harts ye prepare; 

And next after that, in all your doyng. 

Observe your faythe and allegyaunce to jthe kyng. 

Pawsyng a while, reformyng of my penne. 

For dulled with writyng and feobled was my brayn ; 

Thns sitting in a muse, I saw too noble men 

Present byfore me redy to complayn; 

Desiryng me bothe to take on me the payn, 

Ther fall to remember, dissended of oon race ; 

Whome to behold it was a pityous case. 



What gretter prerogatyfe, quod they, have we 
Of our lyyes, or stand in more sykkemes^ 
Allthough of the lyne imperiaU dissendyd we be. 

' '^The 5 of November [1539] Henry Courtney, Marquesse of 
Excester, and Earle of DeTonshire, and Sir Henry Poole, knight. 
Lord Montacute, and Sir Edward Nerill, brother to the Lord of 
Burgavenie, were sent to the tower, being accused by Sir Geffirey 
Poole, brother to the Lord Montacute, of high treason, in deyising 
to maintaine, . promote, and advance, on Reginald Poole, late 
Deane of Excester, enemie to the king, beyonde the sea, and to 
deprive the king." 

" The Marquesse of Excester and Henry Lord M<mtacute were 
arraigned on the last of December, before the Lord Audley, that 
was lorde chancellor, and for that present high stewarde of 
England, where they were found guiltie. The third day afler 
were arraigned Sir Edward Nevill, Sir GeflBrey Poole, two priests 
called Crofts and Colens, and one Holland, a marriner, an at- 
tainted. And the 9th of Januarie [1540] were Henry Marquesse 
of Excester, Henry L. Montacute, and Sir Edward NeviU be- 
headed on Tower Hill. The others were hanged and quartered at 
Tybome, except GeflBrey Poole, who was pardoned/' — Stowe. 

^ SykkemeSf i. e. security. Thus in the Mirror for Magistrates : 
In their most weale let men beware mishap 
And no^to sleepe in slumbring iiekemesse. 


Than bathe the mean sort of fortune's fykkilnes? 
If she list to swerve, than is it remedylesse : 
We must fortune abyde said suffer all with pacience. 
For byr to resist ther botythe no violence. 

I was, quod thoon, a marquis, of late creacion, 

Called of Exeter, and lynyally dissended 

To the Erledom of Devonsbyre by dewe generation; 

Alas ! all this have I lost; it cannot be amendyd. 

For we are accused of purpose pretended. 

Our sDverayn to offend in such an offence 

AiEinothjmg but our beds canmaketherforerecompence. 

That is trewe, quod the other, I must it neds confesse. 
For I have felt the smart, whom ye know full wejl, 
Sometyme Lord Montague, and now in great distresse ; 
Such is my chaunce, I «an it not refell. 
But with my cosya here I suffer every dell 
Of fortunes lott, and take it in good part, 
Ctevyng God thanks, therfore, with all my hart. 

The blast of our cryme is greater shame 
Than is the losse of all our brittel glory. 
That we, alas! shold here the slannderous name 


Of tmytot^i falce in any boke or storye: 
What is he of our bloode that wold not be sory 
To here our names with vile fame so detected^ 
Wherewith our posteritie shall allways be suspected? 

What cause shoM we have to be onkynd 

Unto our soterayn lord, of hygh magnyficence? 

Which, with his regal benyfitts did us hyghly bynd. 

To here to hyme our love: and dewe obedyeitCe ; . 

Wherof all tiie world had intelligence, 

That we, of all other, bothe of bloode and othetwyse. 

Had least cause his magestie to dispiseu 

But the evyU spyrytt, that of can<^kard malygnytie, 
Malygned our honor and hyghe renowne, 
Disdaylied our blood and auncyent dignytie; 

3 * To heare our names with vile fame so detected/ 
Detected tpitk viUJume, appears to modem ears a singolar mode of 
expression, but we have in Sbakspeare a somewhat similar phrase : 

'I sooner should suspect the sun with cold/ 

The fact is, that hf^ wM^ and of^ were used indisctimikiately wifli 

very great license by our ancestors. To detect was synonymous 

ydtb to impeachy to bewray, to accuse. Thus in a future passage : 

^^nt oiovflily ayefnst nature did me tfaUs detected 


Intendyng our DYerthiowe and to. hryng us dtrs^, 
Accused us of conspiracie agenst the royal crown : 
Whos falce accusations ware than regardyd more 
Than ever was our trout|ie^ used alwayes byfore. 

Accused by hyme that sbold: father ^xcuse^ 

And defend bur tralhes widi all his trewe enderor; 

Oh, howe onkyndly did.he us abuse! 

The fact onnatEOral purged will be never. 

But allwayeii fresh, contifiuyij^ still for erer; 

Who ayenst nature condempned hathe his brother 

To cruel death, so hathe he done his mother. 

To the great slaunder and blott of his name. 
His credytt is lost, and so is his estymacion, 
And he confused; alas! he was to blame, 
HymseUe to overthrowe, and all his generation, 
Ayenst God nowe, how can he make purgation, 
That so agaynst nature onnaturally hath wrought, 
DestroyengaUhisbloodandbroughthymself to nought? 

Cruel accuser! thy malice was too strong. 

Our fall to conspire by falshod brought abought ; 

Ayenst all nature thou hast done us great wrong, 


Therfoie from shame we pat the out of doug^t: 
Thon shalt never escape, it is so ferre bkKwen owt; 
For of all kynd of vice, shortly to conclude. 
The worst ayenst God is ingratitade. 

Though thy necligence bryngythe us to this ^id, 
Tet, that thou mayst have therof remembraunce. 
We Grod humbly beseeche such grace to send 
That thou mayst repent or he on the take vengeaunce 
For thy great ingratitude : take this for thy penannce : 
Alwayes in thy hart call to thy memory 
That by thy oonly meane hedles here we lye. 



Since fortune sparith non of hyghe lyimage. 
All men, therfore^ be ye not rechelesse^ 
Prewdently to forsee the daynger of this pilgrimage ; 
Syth fortune waytithe onwarely you to oppresse. 
Be circumspect and advise you in all your busynes. 
And with vertewe ay pursue your noble pieussaunce, 
Byfore fortune extendyth hir cruel vengeaunce; 

For it is not your estates fortune can defend. 

Your diligent travel or noble behavour. 

Whan flykkeryng fortune doth hirself entend 

To cast you out of your prynces favour; 

For if a prynce hath caught a deadly savour 

Of indygnacion, farewell all treuthe and noblenes ; 

To the blokke ye must, it is remedyles. 

♦ rechehsse^ i. e. careless. 


There is no consideration with prjfnces in ther ire. 

And most in especyall ayenst an hyghe estate; 

For where dread and dysdayn hath set the hart on fier 

Of a wilfoll prynce, with meincy not socyatt ; 

Also where pitie and clemency cannot his ire abate. 

There you, myghty peers, mnst take f&rtanes channce. 

To trype on the trace as some hath led the dannce. 

To be a lord of royaU bloode and dygaytie, 

Sometymes, ye se, doth but small avaylle; 

For bett^ it ware to be of basse and low degree 

Than in suche honor for a while to prevayUe; 

A ragjmg wynd may tome yonr brittel sayle. 

And dryre you bake agajoi, and rove yon on some 

Where your noble pates may happe to catche a knock. 

^ ' rave you on some rock/ i. e. rive or spUt your vessel on some 



Thbrfok thbu^ salved smarts for aye shallt be sore, 
Th^ great losse most worthy to be playned^ 
The onware chaonce that passed but of yore^ 
Wherof the greaffe so depe in me is grayned 
That from myn eyen the teares skantly be refrayned 
For the great dekay that still comyth me toward^ 
Of the late quene^ whos name was Katheren Howard. 

Thus as I sat, the teares in myn eyen. 
Of hir the wrake whiles I did debate, 
Byfore my face me thought I sawe this qaene; 
No wytt as I hir laft, Grod wQtt, of late. 
But all bewepte, in blake and poore estate; 
Which prayed me that I ne wold forget 
The fall of hir within my set. 





O CRUBL Destiny^ (quod she) O Fortune insacyable^ 

O waverjrng worlds roUyng lyke a ball ! 

You are so wayward and so onstable 

That never any assnrannce can be in yon at all; 

To all estates^ you are ennemyes mortall : 

Who list of you to have experyence. 

My fall may geve them intelligence. 

To be a queue fortune dyd me preferre, 
Floryshyng in youthe with beawtie freshe and pure; 
Whome nature made shyne equall with the sterre. 
And to reynge in felicitie with joy and pleasure^ 
Wantyng no thyng that love myght procure; 
So hyghly beloved, farre beyond the rest. 
With my soverayn lord who lodged in his nest. 

' Eitaitesy here and in ofher passages means persons of rank or 
high estate. 


But well away, how dredfull is the joyell 

Of brittel beautie, that grace doth not conceive; 

Yf dread of shame do not attend it well. 

How lyke is lust to make them for to swerve. 

With wanton provokyng, whan reason dothe not 

From onleafull licence, which causithe youth, parde. 
To breke the fetters of fame and chastitie. 

O tender youthe, firayle for to resist 
The wanton appetites of carnal delight; 
Whan love with lost dothe in youth consist. 
Than hard for youthe ayenst vice to fight: 
For youthe is blynd and hath no sight. 
The trade ^ to consider of honest wyfefaod. 
Till shame hath beten them with hir rode. 

Alas ! dame nature, who hathe in every vayn 
Endewed me with gyfts, as to hir partie she thought 

Beautie, alas! also thou givest me cause to playn! 

* the trade, i. e. the true course or proper usage. Thus Baret: 
^' Bxcept thou appoint to thyself some trade and manner of life. 
Nisi tibi aliquem vitse modum constitueris.^' Alvearie, 1575 T. 275. 

VOL. 11. F 


Why floryshestdiouinyyoal!he with thy Uccwe sweete^ 
Excellyng all other, firom toppe unto the feete? 
My blazing beantie is greatly to reprefe. 
Chafe canse and grottnd of all my myschefe. 

Who wyshethe beantie or wanton yonlti desier. 
They covet that thyn^ they shold no wyse do so : 
The brond I now repent that late was set on fier 
Within my brest, which workythe me all this woo; 
What daynger in Cnpid's fier I playnly now do knowe : 
Beware all ye, therfore, that natnre hath yon lent 
Lyke graces^ use them wdl, lest after ye repent. 

Cnlpeper yong, and I, God wott, bnt firaylle. 
We bothe to feeble our lusts for to resist; 
Whan shamefastnes in me began to fayUe 
Of chastitie, than did I breake the twyst 
With Dereham first, that my maydenhed possyst; 
Deathe was ther mede, I with shame defaced : 
Who shamely dothe, of long will not be raced*. 

' *of hng wiU not he raeal,' that i8,.fheir course or race of life 
will not be long. 


O vessell of vice! O fhoufrayleyoiithe! 

In whom no yertoe can take roote^ 

Onles that grace have on the rewthe*. 

To plant in the some vertue sote^ 

Vice to resist there can be no boote : 

Where grace wantithe^ and hath of youth no cure. 

There vertue in youth hath seldom byn in ure. 

Nowe I knowe well (quod she), aiidong my frends all 

That here I laft the day of my dekaye. 

That I ne gett no pompes fonerall. 

Nor of my blake no man my charge shall paye. 

Save that some oon perchance may happe to say, 

Suche oon there was, alas! and that was rewthe. 

That she hirself distajmed with such ontrewthe* 

Farewell, my bretheme and frends all arowe! 
For all your harmes I oonly ame to blame 
That thus have fallen, as all men knowe. 

* rewthcy ruth or ptVy. 
^ sole i. e. sweet. 



To your deksly and my great shame^ 

Though I ame well worthy of the same; 

Yet pray ye to God, allthongfae that I have swerved®^ 

Thatmy sowle may have better thanmy body deserved. 


* By prove of me, non can denye 
That beautie and lust, ennemyes to chastitie. 
Have been the tweyn that hathe dekayed me. 
And hathe broughte me to this end ontoward; 
Some tyme a queen, and now hedlesse Howard. 


And I, Culpeper, alas! bom in Kent, 
Admjrttyd, from a boy, to be the kyng's page, 
Prowde out of measure, which I may repent. 

^ This poetical confession is very different from the historical 
fact. Catherine only confessed and deplored the disorders of her 
former life, but called God and his angels to witness that she had 
never been unfaithful to the king's bed. 


Drowned in the depthe of myn own outrage; 
Over,myche wenyng put God out of knowlege; 
For by myne abusion of pride and viciousnes. 
My lyfe is ended with shame and wredchednes. 

Take example of me^ I desire you^ yong men all^ 
That rageth in youthe and tradyth*^ the courtly lyfe^ 
All is but vanytie, your lives be but bestiall; 
Bjrtween will and deade let virtue breake the stryffe, 
And suffer vice to asswage^ which hath in you prero- 

So contynewe ye may to live in your degree ; 
For if ye foUowe vice, dought it woU not be^ 

I folowed my pleasure, of God I had no feare^ 
Thynkyng myself but idell ; and my labour vayn spent 
In dyvyn servyce, the tyme that I was there; 
For my devocion and my hole entent 
Was gevyn to pleasure, such as I did invent: 
Nowe I repent, therefore, my necligence to God, 
"Who hathe me corrected with his dyvyn rod, 

7 tradythy i. e. usetli: see note on page 65. We have the same 
expression in a future page: 

* When I did trads the conrtly life/ 


Besechyi^g yon, my fteadB, whom I have left behind. 
To pray that Lord, whom I most have oflfended. 
That ho of his mercy wyll to me be kynd ; 
For now to late, my lyfe to be amended. 
Wherefore, mercy, good Lord, that for me dissendyd 
To shed his precious blood, hangyng on a tree; 
Nowe yet, mercy, good Lord, I hartely byseche thee. 



As I drewe towards tbend of my boke^ 
Purposyng to fynyshe that I bad begon^ 
By dtiaiince^ asyde^ as I cast my loke, 

I aspied a wydowe in blake full woo begon 

i« « « « « « 

That I wold hir a place here afford^ 

Whom I oons knew^ Jane^ Vicount^s Rocheford. 


My grave father (quod she) of the Morlas lymie. 
My mother of the St John's; tiiis was my parentage: 
And I, alas! that dyd myself inclyne 
To spot them all by this my owltrage. 
Brought uppe in the court all my yong age^ 
Withouten bridell of honest measure, 
Folowing my lust and filthy pleasure. 

> This hiatus is not filled up in the manuscript 


Without respect of any wyfely truthe, 
Dredles of God, firom grace also exempte. 
Viciously consnmyng the tyme of ihys my youth; 
And when my beautie began to be shent^; 
Not with m]rn owne harme sufficed or content. 
Contrary to Grod, I must it nedes confesse. 
Other I entised by ensample of my wredchednes*. 

^ And when nay beautie began to be shenif 
This may be an error for spent; yet sketU formerly signified in- 
juredy decayed or ruined, from the Saxon peeii*Mn. Thus Chaucer: 

" O foule lust of luxurie, lo thin ende, 
Nat only that thou faintest mannes mind, 
But yeraily thou wolt his body shend. 
Thende of thy werke, or of thy lustes blind, 
Is complaining: how many may men find 
That not for werk somtime, but for th' entent 
To don this sinne, ben other slaine or sheni. 

Com. Tales, v. 5347. 

3 It seems doubtful whether Lady Rochford suffered for any 
real crime; her alleged offence was a participation in tfae.supposed 
guilt of the queen, by introducing Culpeper into her chamber and 
remaining with him there for three hours one night Catherine 
was hardly so lost to all sense of shame as to require a witness. of 
her amours. Culpeper was probably a relation to the queen, for 
her mother's maiden name was Culpeper: he had formerly been 
mentioned as her intended husband. In the absenco of more direct 
proof of criminal conduct after marriage, it will be only charitable, 
as Dr. Ldngard suggests, to surmise that Catherine and Lady 
Rochford were sacrificed to the manes of Anne Boleyne. The reader 
will find some misrepresentations of Hume and Smollet corrected 
by Dr. langard in yoI. iii. p. 410, of his History. 8yo. Edit* 


Of right me thynkifh I ought to be a glass 
To all the rest of great estates ; and dames 
Seyng me nowe, considering what I was. 
Without any blott^ to kepe their honest names : 
Seyng that vice ne endyth without flames ; 
And thoughe that shame may be wayled all day, 
Thereof the blott^cvill not be washt away^ 

Howe bright among us yet dothe shyne the starre 
Of them that ride within the chayer of Fame, 
Above all things, which only did preferre 
The brewtc* to kepe of their onbroken name; 
As auctors right well dothe testifie the same 
Ayenst such vices. that wan the victory, 
And beare the palme to their etemall glory. 

As vertuous Sara, Rebecca, and Racell, 
Judyth, Hester, and chast Pennelopie, 
And Cornelia, that onbroken kept the shell. 
And bare the lampe of onquenched chastitie, 
Fleeyng excesse or superfluitie. 
Where camall lust for all his violence 
Ne made them breke chastitie or obedyence. 

♦ hrewtCj or bruit, i. e. report. 


Where sturdy SiUa, to iiataie contranans. 

Enforced by ludt hir f^ihefs heaie to ppU; 

With Cleopatra, concubyn to Anthonyoas, 

With vicious PasijdiaB that deled mth the BvU ; 

And Messalyne, insacyatt, that never was fiill : 

But ever thes wretched, vicious and disconimendabte 

To God and nature, they lived abhominable. 

W(M to God that I, in my fiowryng age. 
Whan I did trade the conrdy life. 
Had fostered byn in a S3rihide vill^e, 
Beryng the name of an honest and chast wyfe ; 
Where* now my slannder fdr ever shall be ryfe 
In every matter, both early and late. 
Called the woman of vice insaciatt 

The tyme is past, and I have now receyred 
The dewe dett.of my (mjust desiers, 
Prayeng to God my fall may be conceyved 
Within their harts that bnrn in vicious fiets ; 
The just God, as right allwayes requires. 
That hathe me punyshed for my mysgovemaunce, 
Ne take of me a greater vengeaunce. 

' where for wherms. 



Endyngb thus bir playnt^ another was commyBg^ 
Of corage impotent, and depe wcairie in age ; 
Whos^pitipiis dekay, if that I had connyngS 
I wold expresse hir grevous dammage ; 
Althoughe she ware a lady of excellent paientage. 
Of the bloode royal lynyally dissendyd. 
Yet by cruel fortune at niyschefe she ended. 

For Fortune, ye know, regardyth non estate ; 

All estates to hir is oon whan that she list to firown : 

Wherefore, ye nobles, beware hir cruel hate j 

Non halii more nede than ye of grett renown; 

For whan ye are most hyghest then doth she throwe 

yoti down. 
And tomblyth you hedles from your hygh stages. 
Who will not be retayned with now ther fees or wages* 

' coTinyngf cunning, generally used for skilL 



Th YS ;aiatron hir playnt began in this wyse : 
Alas^ (qood.she) age hath no more assuraunce 
Of Fortune's sewertie, whom she dothe dispise. 
Than hathe lusty youthe ; all hangyth in hir balaunce^ 
Diaposyng as she will to favor or to myschannce ; 

^ The death of the venerable Countess of Salisbury is one of 
the bloodiest stains in the sanguinary annals of Henry. She was 
arrested on account of the opposition which her son, Cardinal Pole, 
had offered to some measures of the king, Jbut nothing eould be 
urged against her, and she behaved with so much firmness, in the 
conscious integrity of innocence, as to disconcert her persecutors. 
An attempt was therefore made to attaint her without trial or con- 
fession, and at length her name, together with that of Grertrude the 
widowed Marchioness of Exeter, and that of the son of Lord Mon- 
tague, wereintiaoduced into a bUl of attainder found against several 
persons who had been condemned by the lower courts, though none 
of them had confessed any crime, nor had been heard in tiieir own 
defence. The marchioness was pardoned and liberated at the end 
of six mouths ; of Montague's son it is not known what was the 
$ftte. The countess was .kept in' the tower (probably to intimidate 
the cardinal her son), and at the end of two years upon some pro- 
vocation received, in which she could have had no share, she was 
led to the scaffold. Being requested to lay her head on the block, 
she replied, " No, my head never committed treason, if you will 
have it, you must take it as you can.'' Being held down by force 
while the executioner performed his office, she exclaimed, ^' Blessed 
are they who suffer persecution for righteousness sake.'' She was 
more than 70 years of age, the nearest relation in blood to tiie king, 
and the last in a direct line of the Plantagenets. 


Which I have felt, as well thoon as the other. 
Although I was the daughter of a kyng's brother. 

My father, a Duke, of Clarence was his style. 
And brother of Kyng Edward, the IVth. of that name. 
Who was condempned also,^ alas> alas^ the yrhyle t 
By subtill accusacion, and he nothyng to blame 
For a prophane prophesy e, of whom than ran the fame ; 
Condempned therefor to dye, and drownd in a butt of 

Thu^ by cruel Fortune brought he was to rewyn. 

A brother than I had, who also was his heyer,. 

Yong and tender, and I, God w;ott, not old> 

Laft in the hands of worldly dispayer,, 

Whos lyfe thorough daynger was both boughtand sold ;^ 

And so I here remajmed in sorrows manyfolde, 

TJntill my sovereyn lord of his royal clemencyel 

Restored me againe to the Eriedome of Salesbury. 

Ledynge thus my Ijrfe accordyng to myn estate 
I was the more estemed for my grave demeanor,. 
I banysshed allwayes the cause of ryott and debate 
Owt of my hall, my chamber, and my bower. 


With whome I had non acquaintance day ne hower ; 
So that my soyerayn, for my sad' disposicyon. 
Assigned me the govemaunce and pradent direccion 

Of his oonly doughter, than prynces of this land. 

Of femynyn yertae» the very sbverayn flower; 

The coer than of whom I gladlie toke in hand 

To goveme and rewle as lady govemour 

Of that swete lady; I dyd my best endevonre^ 

For whome God I did beseche and pray 

That he wold preserve hir long and many a day. 

Thus passed I my lyfe, not wyllyng to otfend. 
But did myself employ, with all my dyligence. 
That which was amyse^ to se it wdl amend, 
Ih all thes my places wherof I had premynence : 
In mynestryng of justice I never used vyolence. 
But with pacyence and charitie asswagedmy ^eccion^ 
Beryng in my hart no malice after correction. 

Yet at the last, for all ipy sober lyfe. 

The cfaaunce of fortune I cowld no wyse resist, 

' tttdf i. e. gmrey serious. 


Whos craeltie myn honor cruellie did deprjrfe^ 
And gave me an overthrowe or ever I it wyst ; 
With a firownyng countenance she stroke at me hir fyst. 
As thougbe she had sayd, in words expresse. 
Thou shalt not escape this hand of cmelnes. 

I saw no remedy ; for deathe with his mace 
Gave me chek-mate^ led to execucion ; 
Ther boted no excuse I could fynd, no grace, 
I was condempned without examynacion : 
Of the Plantagynetts last of that generation. 
Which bare that name of old and noble fame. 
Some tyme esteemed, and nowe in worldly shame* 

ye matrons that be of noble race, 

A myrror make of me, trust not your estate ; 
Beware of Fortune with hir dissembled face, 
Allthoughe she smyle, as she did on me but late^ 
With face benygn, yet nowe she dothe me hate. 
And will no more spare, for all my highe degree ; 

1 wame you all — example take of me. 



What advantage had I to be a duke's heyr. 
Endowed with such qualities. as few in my tyme, 
Lakkyng nothing that nature myght repayr ; 
In dewe proportion she wrought hathe every lyme, 
Assendyng Fortune's whele, made lyke to clyme ; 
Syttyng in myn abode, supposmg to sitt fast. 
With a sudeyn toume she made me dissend as fast. 

Who trustith in honor, and settythe all hys lust 
In worldly riches, havyng of them aboundance. 
Let hyme beware, and take good hede he must 
Of subtill fortune, with dissembling countenaunce ; 
For whan she smylyth than hathe she least assuraunce. 
For the flatteryng world dothe often them begyle 
Withe suche vayn vanynes: alas! alas! the whyle. 

I have not only myself overthrowen. 

But also my father, with heares old and hoore ; 

Althoughe his acts marsheall be right well knowen, 

Yet was mjm offence taken so passyng sore 

That I nedes must dye, and he in prison for evermore 

BY.:6fiOBGJB,CAy«lfQlSH. 81 

Shall still Temayny for it, will not avaylle . 

All his great conqiiests^wheri&he.did prevayUe. 

O Julius Caesai:! O. thou mighty conqii^our ! 
"What myght thy conquests and all thy viotorye 
The prevayle? that of Rome was emperour, 
Whos prowes yet remajrnyth in memotye, 
Whan Brewtus, Casseus^with falce conspyracye 
Ayenst the in the Capitoll did ccmtend. 
Than all thy worthynes could the not defend* 

Also Scipio of Affiican^ that for the comon wele 

Of Roipe^ the empire^ the citie beyng in distre^i^i, 

Lykly to be subdewd, than every dele 

By Anyl^all's yalyaunt hardynes, 

A»d dyyers noble yictoryes, as the history doth express^ 

That, he atchyved to the hcmor of the town». 

Cowld not hym prevayle ^ whan Fortune lyst to frovm. 

Thes myghtie champions, thes valyaunt men. 
Who for the publyke wele travelled all their lyfe. 

^ prevayle for atfoiL 
^ He may often prevmi faiiiiself of the same advantage in English.' 
DrydeiCs E$8ay on Dramaiie Poe&yj \9t Edit, 



Regarded not their ease^ nowther where or when. 
But most Talyaimdy with corage intentyfe 
Defendyd the wele publyke from all myschyfe ; 
Yet was ther nobles^ pat in oblyvion. 
And by matters conspired brought to confiision. 

Loo the reward, alas, that men shall have 

For all ther travells* in ther dayes old. 

With a small spot ther honor to deprave; 

Alas; it eansithe full often men*s harts to be cold 

Whan suche chaunces they do behold. 

How for oon offence a thousand conquests yalyaunt 

Can have no place, ther lyves make warraunt. 

Therfore, noble father, hold yourself content. 
And with your captyfe lyve; be you nothing dysmayd, 
For you may see in historys, playn and evident. 
That many noble persons, as ye are hath byn dekayed ; 
The chaunce therfore of fortune nedes must be obeyed^ 
And perpetual prisonment here shall be your gwerdon^ 
And dethe for my deserts, without remyse and pardon. 

^ nobUi, noUesse, or nobility; from the Fr. 
' trmiUSf u e. travails, works. 


For all my knowledge^ wisdom, and science. 

That God hath me endowed all others to precell^ 

Oaye me here but small preemynence. 

All thoughe some ware advaunced in the comon wele 

From basse estate, as experience dothe tell. 

For suche yirtaes«as vices in me accompted were. 

Caused me to be doi^hted and in great feare. 

That thyng which in some deservyth commendation. 
And hyghly to be praysed, as virtaes comendable, 
Beyng esteemed therefore worthy exaltacion. 
And to be advanced to dygnyties honorable, 
I assure you ware to me nothing profitable; 
For suche some tyme as are but yayn and idell 
Dysdaynythe all them that owght to rewie the bridell. 

Therfore, farewell, my peeres of the noble sect, 
Desyryng you all my fall for to behold. 
Let it a myrror be, that ye be not infect 
Wythe folyshe wytte, wherof be not to bold ; 
My wamyng to you is more worth than gold: 

^ precell, i. e. excell. 



An old proyerbe Hiere is, which trewe is at this day. 
The warned is half armed, thjos I hard men say. 

I thought of no suche shame as now to me is channced, 

I trusted so my wytt, my power, and myn estate, 

Thynkyng more rather hi^y to be.aYannced 

Than deposed, as I have byn but late; 

Be it right or wrong, loo, I have lost my pate : 

Ye se thend of many noble estates. 

Take a vewe of me, and of some your late mates. 



With, that he vanyshed, I wyst not whether. 
But away he went, and I was left alone, 
Whos words andtalke I gathered them together. 
And in this, sentence rewd wrote them eyerychone ; 
Yet was my hart with sorrow fiill woo begone. 
So noble a yong man of wytt and excellence 
To be condempned for so smajl offence ^ 

' '^ To be condempned for so small offence/' 

Small indeed was his offence; he was impeached solely on the 
ground of haying ^ set up and bore the arms of Edward the Con-^ 
feasor, then used by the Prince of Wales, mixed and joined with 
his own proper arms/ — 'The head and front of his offending had 
this extent, — no more/ But, according to the iniquitous mode of 
conducting criminal trials in that unhappy reign, other matter of 
an idle and irrelevant nature was allowed to be urged against him 
in aggravation of his offence. With respect to this offence, Surrey 
proved that he had the authority of the heralds for quartering the 
arms of Edward the Confessor ; that his ancestors had of long con- 
tinuance borne them, as well within as without the kingdom ; that 
they had been constantly borne by himself in Henry's presence ; 
and by others of his family in the presence of several kings, Henry *s 
predecessors. The fact is, that Richard 11. out of regard to his 
patron St Edward, placed his arms on the dexter side of his 
escutcheon, granting the same honour to his favourites, among 
whom were Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, and his descen- 
dants; from him Surrey derived the right, one of his ancestors 



But nowe toehold the basynes that some hathe to 

Some suche which after could hurt them bat a small, 
Mark them well, how they folowe on a rowe, 
Stomblyng at the bloke ; they dougfated not at all 
But as they measure — ^that same to them shall falle; 

having married a coheiress of the Mowbray iamily. His trial 
exhibited the unnatural spectacle of a sister (the Duchess of Bich- 
mond) giving evidence, suggested by a diabolical spirit of hatred 
against her own brother, which evidence also tended to the de- 
struction of the author of her being and his fortunes. Yet all that 
could be gathered from her depositions was, that he had spoken 
with asperity of Hertford, and that he had caused his arms to be 
surmounted by what, in her judgment, seemed much like a dose 
crown, and a cipher resembling that of the king; but in both cir- 
cumstances she was wrong. It is thought '* that Surrey's dea& 
and Norfolk's downfall were owing, not to the king's apprehension 
of their intention to disturb the succession and to reestablish 
popery, but to the ambition, the jealousy, and the fears of Hert- 
ford ; who, anxious to secure to himself the Protectorship during 
his nephew's minority, wished to remove both the duke and his 
son; they being the only rivals he had to fear. His fears were 
not without foundation, for Surrey had openly declared his resolu- 
tion to revenge himself on Hertford, after Henry's death, for in- 
juries of which he considered him to have been the cause." The 
reader will do well to consult Dr. Nott's very elegant Memoir of 
the accomplished and gallant Surrey, prefixed to his Poetical 
Works, 4to. 1815. 


Thexperience is seen dayly bjrfore ther eyes. 
But will woU not suffer them from folye to arise. 

Hope of long lyfe causithe all this desier 

With ambycioos honor that ther wytt defaces, 

Yt makithe them so poore-blynd they cannot se the 

Which Ihem consumyth playn before ther faces; 
But, to be short, it is for lake of graces 
Whicdi they myght have, if they wold call to God, 
But ihesy be so stoute they feare not his just rod* 

Eyyn so did he, but now l^e felythe the smart, 
Trustyng than, as they do now, in his tong and wytt. 
To prevent all suche myschefe whereof he had his part, 
Perceyvyng what wytt is when from God it doih tLjU; 
Trust in hyme therefore which eternally above doth 

Beholdyng yonr madnes, which ye so myche esteem, 
Laughyng therat, and for foly dothe it deme. 



Intbndyng here to end this my symple worke. 
And no further to wade in this onsavery lake. 
My penne was fordidled, my wytts began to lurke, 
I sodenly trembled as oon ware in a braked 
The cause I knew not that I shold tremble and shake^ 
Untill dame Fame I hard blow hir trembling trompe 
With woofull blast, brought me in a soden dompe^ 

Dame Fame I asked, why blowe yeyour tiomp soshryll 
In so deadly a sound ? ye make my hart full sorry. 
She answerd me agajnoi, and sayd. Sir, so I wyll. 

' a brake, i. e. a trap or gnare. ^ Vide vol. i. p. 92> 

^ ' a aoden dampe* u * a sudden Mmyno;* Hob expfefloon' Wm 
not anciently either ludicrous or vulgar. Thus Harington in the 
xliii. hook of the Orlando Furioso, st 147. 

<* The fall of noble Monodantes son 

Strake them into a dumper and made them sad." 


Deade is that royal prynce^ the late Vlllth Hany ; 

Wherfor adewe^ I may no lenger tarry. 

For ;thorowghe the world I must, to blow this deadly 

Alas, thes woofiill newes made my hart agaste ! 

I went my wayes, and drewe myself aside. 
Alone to lament the deathe of this royall kyng ; 
Perceyy3mg right well dethe wyll stope no liyde 
With kyng or kaysier, therefore a wonderonse thyng 
To se how win in them dothe raygn, makyng ther 

Ever to lyve, as thoughe Deathe ware of them afeard 
To byd.them chekmate, and pluke them by the herd. 

To fynyshe thys worke I did mjrself dispose, 
And to condude the same, as ye before have red, 
I leaned, on my chayer, entendyng to repose ; 
In a slepie slomber I felle, so hevy was my hed, 
Morpheus to me appered, and sayd he wold me lede 
My spyritts to revyve, and my labor to degest. 
With whom fantzy was redy, and stayed in my brest 


Fantasy by and bye led me^ as I thought^ 
To a palice royal of pryncely edyfice 
Plentyfnlly fiimyshed^ of riches it lacked nought ; 
Astonyed not a littill of the woofiill cries 
Which I hard there with many wepyng eyes. 
Even as we passed from place to place, 
I beheld many a pityfiill bediopped face. 

So that at the last, to tell you playn and right. 
We entred a chamber without light of the day. 
To whome wax candells gave myche light, 
Wherin I percejrved a bed of royall array. 
To tlie which I approched, makyng no delay, 
Wherin a prynce lay syke with a deadly face. 
And cmel Atrophos standyng in that place. 

Clotho I aspied also, that in hir hand did support 
A distaffe, wherof the stoffe was well nyghe spent 
Which Lachesis doth spynne, as poetts doth report, 
Drawyng the lyvely thred, tUl Attrophos had hent^ 
Hir sharped sheres, with a full consent 

^ To hent, Heocui, Saxon, to take or lay hold of. 

■^- I 

iniMtV rilK KlGUTil. 

AT \.^K (ItKJliV L\' rCKNT, 

l.riH,A-i», /v^V/,)^.1^/ y.ifl>V If't hffttr/fm^ Tr-f^h^^lt l/i^iini 


To shei^B ibe Utred^ ^pporter of liis Wb, 
Ayenst whome tlier botythe^ no prerogatyfe.. 

Attendyng on his person was many a woMiy grome ' 
Where be lay syke^ to whom syknes said chekmate; ' 
AUthoughe he ware a prynce of highe reiiome, 
T^ syknes regarded not his empeiyal estate; 
Tyme approched of his lyfe the fynall date^ 
And Attrophos was prest his lyves thred to devyde : 
Hold thy hand (qnod he) and let thy sttoke abyde^ 


G:bvb me leve, Attrophos^ myself for to lament; 
Spare me a lyttyll, for nature makes me sewe ; 
The fleshe is frayle and lothe for to relent, 
For deathe with lyfe cannot be shett in mewe. 
They be con^traryaunt, ther is no thing more trewe ; 
For lyfe ayenst dethe allwayes dothe rebell, 
Eche man by experience naturally this can tell. 

* hatythe^ i. e. aoailtth ; boot is profit, adrantage. 


From Clothos distafe my lyvely stufie is spent, 
WUch Lachesis the slender thred hathe sponne 
Of my lyfe emperyall ; and thou, Attrophos, hast hent 
The sharped sheres to shere my feoble throme^ 
That the warbeled^ spendell no more abonght shold 

And of my regall lyfe thus hast thou great disdayn 
So slender a thred so long shold it susteyn. 

But leve of, Attrophos, thou nedes not make suche hast 
My symple lyfe with vigor to confound. 
Thy sheryng sheres thou shalt but spend in wast. 
For the spyndells end alredy is at the ground. 
The thred ontwynned cannot more be twound: 

' throme or thrum, any collection of short threads, generally 
the end of the warp in weaving. The reader will recollect Bot- 
tom's passionate exclamation: — ' 

' O fates, come, come, 

Cut thread and thrum.* 
^ * the warheUd spendell,' i. e. the quivering or wndiihuing spindle. 
This word in our language is now only applied to a quavering or 
undulating sound. To wMle is still used in vulgar language for 
an unsteady rotatory motion. The Scotch have warble in the 
same sense. Baret, in his Alvearie, 1573, F. 900, has " a wtarttUMg 
or quavering feather; — ^Tremula in pileo pluma." 


Great folly .in the, that takes suche idell payne 
To slee that th]mg that is all redy slayne. 

Wherfore leave of, Attrophos, for end of lyfe is deathe. 
And deathe I se is end of worldis payn. 
What shalt thou wyn than to stope my fajmted bretbe, 
Sjrthe well thou knowest whan that thou hast me 

To wele or woo I shall oons rise agayn: 
Though^ in thy fury my lyfe nowe thou devour. 
To sle me agayn it shall not lie in thy power. 

Slee me not, Attrophos, but let [the] spyndell ronne. 
Which long hathe hanged by a feoble lynne. 
For whan Lachesis hir fyned flees hathe sp<HU)ie, 
The spyndell woll fall ; thou seest well with thyn eyw,. 
No stuffe is laft agayn the threds to twyne: 
So slender it is, that with oon blast of wynd 
The thred wyll breke, it is so slakly twynd. 

But nowe, alas! that ever it shold befall 
So fan^ous a prynce, of fame so notable,. 
That fame with d,«fame shold the, same appall, « 


Or cause my concyence to be so onstable. 
Which for to here is wonderous lamentable^ 
How for the love and fond affeccion 
Of a symple woman, to worke all by collusion. 

I broke the bond of maniage, and did myself incline 
To the love of oon in whome was all my felicitie. 
By means whereof this realme is brought in rewyn; 
Yet notwithstandyng, I neds wold serve my fantzye. 
So that all my lust in hir was fyxt assuredly. 
Which for to color, I colored than my case, 
Makyng newe lawes, the old I did deface. 

With colour of concyence I colored my pretence, 
Entendyng therby to sett my bond at lybertie. 
My lusts to frequent, and have of them experyence, 
Sekyng but my lust of onlefull lecherye, 
Wherof the slander remaynethe still in me ; 
So that my wilfullnes and my shameful trespace 
Dothe all my magestie and noblenes deface. 

Whan Venus .veneryall of me had domynacion. 
And blynd Gupido my purpose did avaunce> 
Than willfull lust thoroughe indiscression. 


Was chogyn juge to hold my balaunce 
Of onleful choyse^ by Tvhos onhappie chaunce, 
Yt hath daiked my honor^ spotted fame and glcnry. 
Which causithe my condence oft to be fiiH sory^ 

Alake^ therfore> greatly I ame ashamed 
That thus the world i^old know my pretence, 
Wherwith my magestie is slaundred and defamed. 
Thoroughe this poysoned lecherous offence^ 
Which hathe constrayned by mortall violence 
So many to dye my purpose to attayil> 
That nowe more grevous surely is my payn. 

Though I ware myghty and royal in piensaunc^ 
Hayjmg all thyngs in myn own domayn. 
Yet was my reason under the obeysauncer 
Of fleshely lust, fetered in Venus' chayn^ 
For of my lust, will was my soverajm; 
My reason was bridelled so by sensualitie^ 
That wyll rewled all without lawe and equytie. 

After I forsoke my first most lawfull wyfe 
And toke an other, my pleasure to fullfill, 
I diaynged often, so inconstant was my lyfe; 


Deathe was the meade of some that did non ill^ 
Which .oonly was U^ satisfie my wyll; 
I was so desirous, of tiewe, to have my lost. 
Yet could I fynd non lyke the fiirst. 

In excellent virtiie and vryfdj trouthe. 

In pryncely prudence- and womanly port, 

Which floryshed in hir evyn from hyr youthe. 

So weU disposed and of so sad^ a sort. 

To all men it was no small comfort; 

And synce the.tyme that I did hir devorse. 

All England lamentethe and hathe therof remorse. 

Hir to commend and prayse, evyn at the full. 
As she was worthy, it lyethe not in my myghte. 
My wy tt and connyng is to ^osse and dull 
Hir worihjnoos in so. rude a style to wright> 

^ *^ Deathe was the meade of sonie that did not ill/' 
By this it appears, notwithstanding Cavendish's foregoing cen- 
sure of Henry's unfortunate wives, that he did not consider them 
guilty. It is honest in Cavendish, with his prejudices, to a^- 
hute the death of Henry's queens to his love of change. 
7 sad, i. e. seriousy grave. 


Unto pacient Greseld, if ever there ware any; 

For lyk^ hyr paciente there hathe not regned many^ 

What inconvenyence have I nowe brought t6 passe^ 
Thoroughe my wilfuUnes of wyUiill necligence, 
Within this reahne^ fare from the welthe it was^ 
It nedes not therfore to geve you inteligence. 
For you have felt the smart and the indygence; 
Wherfore to make any ferther declaration. 
It ware to me but an idell occupacion. 

For all my conquests and my royal powers. 

My pleasaunt tryumphes and my baQkett3mg chere. 

My pryncely port and my youthfull powers. 

My great liberalities unto my darlyngs dere. 

My emperyall magestie, what ame I the nere? 

For all my great aboundance, noihyng can me defend 

From mortall dethe; all fleshe must have an end* 

' This praise of Catherine of Aragon, which is put into the king's 
month, is accordant with what he is represented to liave said of her 
in the speech given in the Life of Wolsey. The queen is much 
indebted to Cayendish for her reputation with posterity, which we 
have no doubt was desenred, but which she owes, probably, to the 
Catholic spirit of her panegyrist. 



Who had more joyes? who had more pleasure? 
Who had more riches? who had more aboimdaimce? 
Who had more joyells? who had more treasure? 
Who had more pastyme? who had more dalyaimce? 
Who had more ayd? who had more aUyaiuice? 
Who bad more howsis of pleasure and disport? 
Who had sache places as I for my comfort? 

All thyng to reherce wherin I toke ddi|^t 

A long tyme^ I assui^ yoQ> wcAd not mSce; 

What avayllethe now my power and my myght. 

Since I must dye and shall no more aryse 

To raygn in this worlds nor seen with bodely eyes? 

But as a clott of clay consume I must to dust. 

Whom you hiive seen to raygn in welthe and lust 

Farewell, my nobles! farewell, my pirelates pvtnrall! 
Farewell, my noble dames! farewell, yaw prena^ 

Farewell, my citezens! farewell, my commons all! 
Farewell, my bowses! where I was wont repayer; 
Farewell, my gardens! faiewdl, the pleasant ayer! 
Farewell, the world! farewell, eche creature! 
Farewell, my firends! my lyfe may no more endme. 


Adewe, myn impe®! adewe, my relyke here! 
Adewe, my sonne Edward! sprong of the royafl race 
Of the wight ros^ and the red, as it may well appere: 
Lord God, I beseche the to send hym of thy grace. 
Prosperously to raygne and long to eiyoy my place. 
To thy will and pleasure, and the common welthe 
Justly here to goveme in great joy and helthe. 

' Impe literally meant a graft, slip, scion or sucker, and by 
metonymy is used for a child. Cromwell, in his last letter to 
Henry, prays for the imp his son. Shakspeare uses it, but only 
in familiar passages ; it was probably going out of use in his time. 
Modem language has only retained it in an ill sense for a young 
deyil or evil spirit. 




With that I sawe his breath fast consume away. 
And lyfe also, allthoughQ he ware a kyng; 
Whan deathe was come nedes he must obeye; 
For deathe is indyflFerent to eche creature lyvyng: 
He sparithe none, all is to hyme oon ryconyng: 
All estates by deathe must end, ther is none other 

Loo here nowe I lie (quod he) undemeathe your foote. 

Makyng thus an end of his most dolorouse talke, 
I stray t awoke owt of my sobbyng slomber; 
Morpheus than forsoke me and forthe began to waike, 
But fantzy with me abode, who did me myche encomber, 
Puttyng me in remembrance of the lamentable nomber 
Which in my slepe I sawe, with every circumstance; 
It was no small grieve to my dull remembrance. 

And when I degested eche thyng as it was, 

I could but lament in my faythfull hart. 

To se the want of our wonted solas. 

With whome I nedes must take suche equall part; 


And than to my remembrance I did agayn revert^ 
Recountyng his noblenes^ shortly to conclude^ 
Wrott than thus his epitaphe in sentence brefe and 


Victoryously didest rayii 
The yiiith Herrye, 
Worthy most soyerayn^ 
Tenth worthy, worthy. 

A Jupiter of providence, 
A strengthe of Herculns, 
A Mars of excellence, 
A paynfull Janus. 

A Cesar of clemencye, 

A corage of Hectojj, 

A Solomon in sapience, 

Anarmezof Arthore. ' 

A Cicero in eloquence, 
A hardy Aniball, 
A Dayid in prudence. 
An Alexander liberall. 

A Pl^to in peace. 

Of beawtie an Absolon^ 

An Achilles in presse, 

In governance Agamemnon. 

A force of Sampson, 
A Charlemayn in myght, 
A Godfroy of BuUoyn, 
A Rowland in fyght. 

An Holy Phodon, 

A continent Fabricyus, 

An intier Caton, 

A pieussaunt Pompeyous^ 


A Marcus MnroeUtui, 
A Scipio Affiicaiiy 
A Ceaaiur JulinS) 
An other Octayyan'. 

Thifl beawtie of Britayne 
Reyned prosperously. 
Of progeny Grecean, 
Dissendyd lynyally. 

Whos honor to magnifie 
The mighty power dyyyn 
Hath chosyn h3rme fat thyn de 
Above the sterres to ahyne. 

FINIS 6, C« 

I A simllir attribotioa of aU the virtaes of the moet celebrated worthies of antiqiiity 
to one distingoished person, is to be found in the celebrated Coplas of Jorge Manriqne 
on the Death of his Father, written about the middle of the fifteenth century. The 
coincidence, notwithstanding, appears to be purely accidental; Cayaidish probably 
never heard of tids celebrated Spanish poem, wliich has been {wonounced " so Inimita- 
ble in its execution, that it is as impossible to translate it as to paint the fragrance of a 
rose, or the sound and motion of a waterfall/' I shall subjoin the stanns which resem- 
ble Carendish's Epitaph, though they are not tiiat part of the poem which should be 
adduced in support of the above panegyric. 

En Ventura Octaviano, 

Julio Cesar ai veneer 

y batallar: 

en U virtud Africano 

Hanibal en el saber 

y trab^ar. 

En la bondad nn Trajano, 

Tito en Uberalidad 

con alegria; 

en sns brazos nn Troyano, 

Marco Tulio en la verdad 

que prometia. 

Antonio Pio en cloneneia, 
Mareo Fkbio en Igualdad 
del semblante : 
Adriano en eloqneneia, 
Tbeodoaio en hnmildad 
y bnen talante : 
Aurelio, Alezandro ftie 
en didpHna y rigor 
de la guerra, 
un C<»i8tantino en la t4, 
y Gamilo en el amor 

The Spanish poet has confined himMtf to th^ WorfUef of the Greelc and Boman 
History, but CavendlAh, with characteristie licence, has jumbled together gods and 
mortals, heroes of romance and philosophers, with regal worthies. 


KAUCTOn G. c. 

Thus havyng just cause on dyvers thyngs to wonder^ 
Wayeng within myself the soden cfaatmce and fall 
Of pryncely magestrates ndiom fortune hath bironght 

Chayngyng ther suretnes onto bitter gall, 
Hayyng no respect to great ne yet to small; 
Thys all men knowyth that hath bpthe wytt and 

That fortunes fayned fisivors lastithe but a season. 

Thus sjrttyng in a dompe, sodenly came in 
Oon with visage sade and pale as any lead. 
Inwardly pensyve complaynyn^ of his kynne, 
Who was condempned for to loose his hed; 
Hymselfe to defend he knew non other stede. 
But paciently to suffer as fortune shold provide. 
The crueltie of theme that shold have byn his gwyde. 



SoMETYME Lord Seymour I was> and uncle to a kyng, 
Allthoughe (quod he) onworthy to so higlie a name. 
Yet did his grace encrease so my lyyyng; 
To my highe honor and perpetual fame, 
I maried the quene by means of the same. 
Who was wyfe to Kyng Herre my sovemyn lord, 
Wherat some disdayned and greatly did r^nord^ 

They grudged, they groned, and fret very sore> 
They fumed, they fomed, fantazyng what way 
They myght me dispatche and distroy for ever more; 
Ther purpose cloos wrought, which they did delay 
Untill they brought abought my utter dekay; 
Procured by a woman, as all the worid sayethe. 
No malice lyke thers, who it justly wayethe. 

O ingrate, (quod he) O kyn onkynd, alas! 
Ayenst all nature thus to be unkynd ; 

' Thomas Lord Seymour, Baron of Sudely and Lord High 
Admiral of England, married Queen Catherine Parr. Beheaded 
March 17, 1640. 

^ To remmrd was to reprehend or blame, from the old French 
remordre. Thus Skelton: ' Sometyme he must vyoes remordeJ* 


All the world abhorrethe to see it brought to passe» 
Nature to repugne that often is full blynd ; 
Yt grudgythe myche more every honest mynd 
Than it did the Romans whan Nero slewe his mother, 
A fact as onnatural oon brother to slee another. 

Nature^ alas! to disdayn ayenst natures newe estate. 
Where nature shold rejoyce, there nature to repjme; 
Yt nedes must cause nature to thynk it onhaturate, 
To cause his owen nature from nature to declyne, 
Thorowghe ambycyous disdayn so miserably to fyne: 
Alas! that brother ayenst brother such yengeaunce 

shold procure; 
Can there be more yengeaunce 1 — ^no ! I make you sewre. 

I allwayesment justly! Lord, be thou my juge, 
Entendyng no man hurt, nother in word or deede; 
My soyerayn lord, who was my cheafe refuge, 
I loyed and obeyed, as nature did me leade; 
Yet, that notwithstandyng, ayenstme they did piocede. 
Not hayyng to justice or nature any respecte. 
But onjustly ayenst nature did me thus detected. 

' Vide Note on p. 37. 


I ^teamed all tmntfae to be in my brotber, 

Snpposyng that he had bjna so to me, 

Perceyryng nan occasyon^ I sawe in hyme non other 

3dt brothedy love, void of all duplicitie; 

Bat \sbo, alas! did ever faeare or se> 

Or who did ever in any story fynd 

Blood unto blood to be more cmkynd? 

As a brother shold, I put in hyme my trust. 
And trusted hym ever in hart, wyll, and thoi^pbt; 
For by bis countenaimce non other cause I wyst. 
And of any malice I mystrusted hyme nought. 
That ever he cowld so false a thyng have wroughte; 
But who may sooner another man disseyve 
Than he in whome no malice we conseyvet 

My brother snrmysed and toke a wrong occamon 
To condempn me of treason, onjustly for to fayn, 
A matter ayenst right to bryng me to confusiiin. 
The whiche he conceyved of hatred and disdayn, 
Ayenst me aflSrmyi^ in very certeyn. 
That I ayenst trouthe and myn allegeaunce. 
Wold of my sovera3rn have the sole govemaunce. 


The which was surmysed of pretenced malicei 

Qyme self wdl knowyng; it was not w, 

Yet ayenst concyence he did my death devyse, 

'tfot lyke a brother^ but like a cruel foo ; 

And, to thencrease of my mortajl woo. 

In short processe by crafty invencion. 

He imagyned my death and my distrucoion. 

Whos oonly purpose kyndeled was by covetise 
Thys realme to rewle, cheafe cause of his disdayn; 
And yet myght the govemaunce, truly to devyse. 
Have byn goyemed by us bretbeme twayn. 
The better for our sewerties and lesse to our payn; 
Howbeit he dispatched me and brought to distracdon, 
Hymself allouly to have therof proteccion? 

This falce conspiracy was not wrought alon 
By my oonly brother, without the heipe of other, 
Which in my way hathe cast this mortal bone; 
Yt was the Erie of Warwyke, it was non other. 
That to my deathe procured hathe my brother^ 

* CaTwidiflk liu b«fciie aUuded to the popular opioioa that th^ 
death of th« Jjtad Admml was promoted by hU brother** wifb, 
Her hatred of him arose from the animoaaty which had arisen 


By whos consent bathe brought, me to thys end^ 
Which at his most nede mygfate have byn his firend. 

The yery groimd and cause was of my distres 

The sayd Erie of Warwyke, thoonly sours and well. 

And cheafe inventor of all this falcenes. 

Who in craft and falshod all others did precell. 

As all the world can beare me wjrtnes well. 

between her and the Queen Catherine Parr, who had humbled die 
pride of the Dutchess by taking precedence, and even insisting on 
her bearing her train. We here see that he makes Warwick the 
principal instigator in procuring his brother to lend his hand to 
his ruin. The Protector is said to hare yielded to Warwick's argu- 
ments and those of his dutchess, who were chiefly instramental in 
moving him to sign the &tal warrant for his brother's execution. 
He is represented as sa3ring on this occasion, '< 1*11 do and suffer 
justice :'' words considered ominous of his own subsequent fide. 
The Lord Admiral was a more deepsighted politician than his 
brother, and more aware of the machinations of Warwick, who 
knew that to sow divisions between the brothers was to weaken 
and ultimately to overthrow them both. That he was jealous of 
the poiyer of his brother, and ambitious of ruling the realm him- 
self cannot be doubted, from the measures he took to obtain that 
object, but that he was innocent of the charges brought against 
him of intending to carry off the king and raise a dvjl war in the 
realm there can be no doubt. Sharington, master of the mint at 
Bristol, was probably induced to accuse him by the hope held out 
to him of saving his own life; at least the subsequent pardon of 
that offender, and his restoration to the office which he had so 
iniquitoualy filled, countenance such a supposition. 


Whome I supposed of my deathe to be iimoG^nt; 
But suerly it was he^ and that he may repent 

This whyly Beare'^ that intended to d^voure 
Me sely lambe^ onprovided for defence^ 
Not sekyng any helpe myselfe for to socoure, 
I was so innocent to make any resistence, ' 
Mysdeemyhg non falcehed, mysttustyng non offence ; 
What wonder was it^ the frawde not conceyved, 
Thoughe I beyug innocent onwarely was dysseyved? 

Allthongfae my greafe be greats as nedes it must^ 
Yetsomethyngitis releafed whan I inwardly reimember 
The deathe of the Quene, that now lyeth in the dnsf, 
For in this world she myghte have lyved longer; 
Hir deadly sorrowes shold have byn not foil slender; 
Whos deyntie dolower woldmyche encreasemy pajm. 
When I the teares shold se from hir face derayn. 

But blessed is she that thus is now depryved 
The paynfol cares of this tempestious skie> 

5 An allusion the crest of the Earl of Warwick. 


WhoB altenudon thfe origynal is deryred 
From onsted&stnes and sodayne nmtafaylitie ; 
Therfore I nedes must say that blessed nowe is she^ 
Synce Ae is delyvetd of this my desolaclon^ 
Which wold have cha3riig6d hir joy to laitientacion. 

I thought to myn answ^re I shold be forthe biou^t. 
Where that my ttoilthe myght justly hare beene tried> 
And proved all th3mg vayu which ayeiut me was 

But whan they consulted and had well espied 
That tfaer accnsaoi0iis myght lawfully byn denyed^ 
Than without answere condetoiplied I was to dye; 
Yf the lawe be suche^ than justice I defle^. 

But whan their purpose was fiflly rasohred, 
Be it right ox wrong, maliCe wold geve nO pls^; 
For right was sett aside and tfew justice ddsdved; 
Say what I wold and still defend my case. 

^ To defie here signifies to renounce, to rejia. In this senise 
Shakspeare uses it in K. Henry TV. p. 1. 
'^ All studies here I solemnly defy 
Save bow to gall and pinch tiiis Bolinglbroke." 


My deathe was detennyned before any trespace; 
That nedes I must dye do what I can; 
Tt boied me not to requyer justice than. 

Ther malice T^as great, it apperifhe by fber facts^ 

After dethe to slannder me and cause falce report^ 

Ye may se it playn in ther parliament acts; 

And yet not content, but a preacher they did exhort 

Op3mly in a pulpit byfore a noble sort 

To accuse me of tbyngs to all men onknowen: 

Was it mete for a precher such slander to beblown''T 

7 ** Was it mete for a precher such slander to beblown." 
See Ladmer's foiuth Sermon in the early editions. The good 
bishop was not contented with arraigning the whcde course o£ hia 
life, accusing him of being a man the farthest from the fear of God 
that ever he knew in England, but relates the following story of 
what happened at his death. When he was ready to lay his head 
upon the block, he turned to (he lieutenant's servant, and requested 
him to bid his servant ^e4 the thing he wot of^ In consequeaee 
of this, Latimer says, the Admiral's servant was examined, aod 
confessed that his majster had contrived by some means to inake 
himself ink, while confined in the Tower, and with the tag of a 
point for a pen, had written on two small pieces of paper, letters 
to the princesses Mary and Mia^beth, exhovtmg them to consider 
the Protector as their greatest enemy, and as one who estraaged 
the king their brother from them, in order to deprive them of the 
right of succession. These papers he caused to be sewed between 


Precher! what moved the, me to defame? ' 
Was it thyn office, or was it thy iiiofession. 

To applie Goddis scripture to the slaimder of my name f 
Are not ye therfore brought to confusion? 
You may se> howe Grod wyll in conclusion 
All.suche puhyshe that slander invents; 
Therfore preache no slaimder of innocents. 

Innocent I was of any cryme or offence 
That mjm ennemyes ayenst me cowld prove; 
Therfore death here I take uppon the pretence^ 
And to that just Judge sytting in hevyn above 

1 commytt my cause^ that the tender love 

He bare to mankynd whan he sufired passion; 
Bave mercy uppon me and grant me clear remyssion. 

the sole of a relvet shoe of his; which being examined, the letters 
were found, and so came to the hands of the protector and &e 
council. This story rests on the authority of Latimer, lor the 
examination of the servant is not upon record. The passage, wi& 
others, is omitted in later editions of Latimer's Sermons, and pro- 
bably had no foundation in truth. The admiral died with earnest 
assertions of his innocence upon his lips, and his confident manner 
has even been made an argument against him. Latimer concludes 
thus: " Whether he be sared or no, I leare it to God : but surely 
he was a wicked man, and the realm well rid of him." 



With that Istept uppe and wold have gone my wayes. 
Nay, not so soon^ to me than sayd an other. 
For I am come to complayn my fall and my dekayes: 
He that last departed hence was my very brother; 

Oar father Sir John Seymour, and borne of oon 

Alas ! I was the causer of his death, craftely surmysed ; 

An act as unnatural as cowld be devysed. 

Wherfore, I pray the, wright my complaynt; 
And spare me not, for I woll tell the duly. 
Alas! (quod I) my hart nowe waxith faynt 

* Edward Seymour and Thomas Seymour, both sons of Sir 
John Seymour of Wolf Hall, in Wiltshire, and brothers to the 
Queen, Jane Seymour, mother of Edward YI. ''I join them 
together," says Lloyd, '^ because whilst they were united in affec- 
tion they were invincible, but when divided, easily overthrown by 
their enemies/' 



With sittyng so long, I tell the truly, 
Heryng compla3^ts of men so onruly; 
Wherefore be short, I pray you, and go your way ; 
I will wright aH thyngs what so ever you say. 


How to complayn, or what sorrows for to make. 
Or how to lament {quod he) my woofutt chaunce^ 
I lake teeres sufficient; fortune hathe me forsake. 
Whom she heretofore highly did adyaunce. 
And traced^ me forth in the pleasaunt dance 

^ traced fi. e. followed. To trace, otiginally a Inmttng term, 
signified to follow the track of an aaimal. Thq old French tracer^ 
tracker, trasser, and the Italian tracciare, hare the same meaning. 
Thus Hall, in his thiid salire of the fiAfa book: 

'^ Go on and thriye, my petty tyrant's pride, 

Sconi thou to live', if others live beside ; 

And trace proud Castile that aspires to be 

Xn his old age a young fifth monarchy." 

And Sbak^^eafe in O^llo : 

If ^baa poor trash of Venice whom I trace (i. e. folbyw) 
For Us quick hunting, bear the putting on, &c. 

where the editors have absurdly altered this word to trask, and 

then give an erroneous explanation. 


Of worldly honors and byghe dign3^ie^ 
Havyng no regard to Mr mutabilitie. 

O mortal lyfe! O momentary estate! 

O deathe oncerta3m, and yet no thyng more suer! 

honor and renowne^ whos suertie hath no date> 
So that in this world no thyng may endure! 
The prove in me ye may playnly se the ure^ 
For late I was a duke of high renownej^ 
Whome fortune hathe full low brought down. 

1 clame' aloft and mounted uppe the stage 
Of honorable estate to be a noble peere^ 
But fykkyll fortune in hir cruel rage 

Of very dispyght, hath thrust me from hir speere^ 
She is nowe fled and will no more come neere; 
Thus ame I lefte alone in an woofull case; 
In worldly felicitie I fynd but littil grace. 

With great presumcion^ whan the king was gon^ 
And passed the passage of this oncertyn lyfe> 
To be than the Protector I presumed to it anon, 

3 dame or clomb, i. e. did climb. 


And banyshed sOl them that had prerogatyfe. 

By his pryncely will, to avoyd all stryfe. 

And theiawes of this realme which he made of eqnitie, 

I changed and made new. with great cxtremytie. 

I, thought for my wytt mete to be a juge^ 

All other to precell in wysdome and discression; 

Yet, by comparison, in wytt I was a druge,- 

For if wysdom had had of me any possessicm, 

I shold have considered for to reule a region 

Was a greater matter than my wytt cold comprehend ; 

I was but a fool^, and so it proved in the end. 

Yf reason had rewled me, or wysdom had plaee, 

I woldrnot have meddeled, not mete for my capacitie. 

^ '' I was but a fool, and so it prored in the end.*^ 
It should seem fhaJt the cotemporaries of the Protector had no 
very high notion of his capacity, but good fortune and courage 
made amends: no one can deny him the meed of an enterprising 
and skilful general* '^ Edward Seyniour, Puke of Somerset linrd 
General (says Sir John Hay ward, speaking of the Northern Ex- 
pedition) was a man little esteemed either for wisedome or personage y 
but being in favour with King Henry YIII, and by him much im- 
ployed, was always observed to be both faithful and fortunate, as 
well in giving advice as in managing a charge." 


But ordered all- thyngs by the wyll of the kyngs graice^ 
As he left them in writyng for a perfect memorye, - 
And to ]preserye the's^Iaws cwhich-ware'of auctoritii^. 
That the^kypg had made for the {Hreservaciotf ~ 
Of this his realnie and his sonnb^ educasion. > 

Alas ! yong prynce, thou Teygnedest lyke a kyng. 
Thou barest the name, but I rewled all by wyll> 
And bare a kyngly port in every manner thyng ; 
I presumed on thy name whan I wold fullfill - * 
My covetous appety te, owther in good or yll ; 
Thoughe he ware kyug, and bare therof the name, 
I had the gaynes, wherin I was to blame. 

Sewrly a Protector shold in every thyng 

Defend the realme from warre and debate. 

And mantayn thos forts which Herre our kyng. 

Whan his owen persone in his royale estate, 

Leavyng them to his sonne after that rate. 

Which I suffired to be lost for lake of defence. 

That owght to be defended with my personal presence. 

I m3myshed his houshold and his regal port, 

I consumed hys treasure, I abated his possessions, 


I banyshed all men t£at ware not of my soit^ 
I esteemed no gentlemen of anncient conditions^ 
I mayntened the commens to make insanecci<ms; 
I thought in the commons to have snere ayd^ 
But at my most ned I was of them denayed. 

The plage of God must justly on me lyght. 
For sfaedyng of my brothers blood by cruel assent^ 
Whome I caused to dye of malice and dispigfat; 
Alas! I was to blame to his death for to consent^ 
Therfore I ame well worthy of thys punishment^; 

^ Such reflections were very likely to hare arisen in the mind 
of the Duke of Somerset after his condemnation^ when in the 
solitude of his cofinement he could not fail to remember his 
brother, with bitter contrition that he was ever induced to lend 
his hand to his destraction, Someraet however from the indul- 
gence of the peers, or perhaps from the commiseration of tbe 
king, was not hurried to execution without trial, but after convic- 
tion was allowed six weeks to prepare himself for death. He 
could hardly expect pardon, though he stooped to ask it, at the 
hands of Northumberland and others, against whom he confessed 
he had meditated mischief; he begged them to intercede with tbe 
king in his behalf, and recommended his wife and children to the 
pity of his nephew. Nattier could he expect that his ambitioiis 
enemy Warwick would show him more commiseration than he 
had shown to his unfortunate brother. The ears of those proud 
rivals were deaf to appeals from one npoa whose ruin they hoped 
to rise. Every avenue to the mercy of his nephew was carefully 
closed, and the young monarch was persuaded that the reiterated 


For sQehe ontnitiie with like ontratbe again 
God will pnnysbe; the same shall stiU remayii. 

Of all my greves notbyng more grevoas 
Than to remember my crael deade. 
Which ayenst nature was mere contrarious. 

offences of his ambitions iinde left him no hope of security but in 
his death. 

The three daugjhters of the Duke of Someiaet, Anne^ Margaret, 
and Jane Seymour, may be added to the list of noble anthers. In 
1551, a volume was published at Paris entitled ** Le Tombeau de 
Margpierite de Yalois/' cx>ntaining one hundred distichs, written 
by these illustrious sisters in Latin, on the death of Margaret, sis- 
ter to Francis I : with versions in Greek, Italian, and French, by 
the most disting^hed wits of the French court, such as Rousard, 
Baif, D'Aurat, D'Herberay, and the Count IVAlsinois. In a pre- 
liminary Epistle addressed to the ladies, D'Herberay Seigneur dee 
Essars, by a piece of poetic g:alantryy supposes them dead, and 
proposes the foQowing epitaph to be inscribed on their tomb: 


By this it appears that Crane, who was the principal evidence 
against the duke, had the merit of educating these learned ladies. 
It should be remembered that the fiishion was then to teach the 
dead languages to females, and the proficiency of Elizabeth, Mary, 
and the Lady Jane Gray in the Greek and Latin is well known. 


O brother, forgeve me, for I stand in great dieade 
Of God's indignacion, now at my neade: 
Forgeve me, good God, my fact onnaturall; 
For mercy and pitie to the I cry and call. 

A kyng and his reahne I presumed to defend. 
That at my most nede cowld not myself preserve: 
O blynd asse, whye wold I than pretend 
A prynce and his reahne royally to conserve, 
Supposyng for my worthynes honor to deserve: 
Of an auncyent dukedome, to beare the high style, 
Twyse I was subdeued; I enjoyed but a whyle. 

At last lyke a traytor led to the barre. 
There of high treason for to be raygned^ 
And tried by my peers to make or to marre, 
Whome they of justice without favor fayned, 
Quyt me therof, wherat some disdayned. 
And rayned me agayn of fellony conspired; 
Yt was but my deathe that they desired. 

rayned, i. e. arraigned. 


Well, I was condempned and jnged for to dye, , 
To hang lyke a thiefe; such' was than my jngenient; 
Who hath hard the lyke, or seen with his eye 
A duke condempned for a fellonous entenf^? 
Where was no hurt don thatthey cowld invent: 
Howbeit I ame the first that shall in this caise,' 
For others ensample dye without trespase? 

7 « Who Hath hard the lyke, or seen with his eye, 
A duke condempned for a fellonous entent?*^ 

Sir John Hayward in his History of the Life and Reign of Ed- 
ward VI. puts a similar reflection into the mouth of that excellent 
young prince : "Was it ever known hefore that a king's uncle, a 
lord protector, one whose fortunes had much advanced the honour 
of the realme, did lose his head for a felony, neither cleere in law, 
and in fact weakly proved? Alas! how falsly have I hin ahused! 
how weakly carried! how little was I master over mine owne 
judgement, that both his death and the envie thereof must be 
charged upon me!'' It is said, that to dispel such reflections, 
Edward was supplied with a continued series of occupations and 
amusements. The duke has been considered innocent or guilty 
of the crimes laid to his charge according as the writers who have 
had occasion to consider this portion of our history have been par- 
tisans of the reformed religion or otherwise. It is remarkable, 
that the peers, after mature deliberation, acquitted him of the 
treasonable part of the charge, but found him guilty of purposing 
and intending to seize and imprison the Earl of Warwick, a privy 
counsellor, which, by an Act passed in the 3d Year of Henry 
VIII. was constituted felony without benefit of clergy. It is said 
his popularity was so great, that when he was acquitted of treason 


My tyme is come^ and I mast nedes suflfer 
The rigor of the lawes; there is no remedye; 
And for my lyfe, it boted not to profer 
GroFd ne sylver, but dye I must assuredly; 
And yet God wot there is no cause whye; 
How be it my hed is lost, and I am gone before 
My ennemyes may ensewe and repent tfaerforel 

there was so loud a shout in Westminster Hall and its vicinity, 
as to be heard at Charing Cross; and that wiien he was pronounced 
guilty of felony, the people were stmck with dumb amaa^nent. 
The account of his execution as given by Stowe, who was an eye- 
witness, has some interesting particulars which tend to solve the 
signs and portents ascribed to that event by tiie good old martyr- 
ologist Fox, who, considering the Duke of Somerset as one of 
the most earnest and strenuous promoters of the reformation, has 
compared the tumult to what *' haj^ned unto Christ when as the 
officers of the high priests and pharisees coming with weapons to 
take him, being astonied, ran backwards, and fell to the ground." 



Thbnd of his complaynt made me for to muse 
More than the rest of all his tale byfore; 
A duke most shamefully with crueltie to abuse^ 
And a kyng^s uncle^ whom they shold have forbore; 
But how they durst presume it wonders me therefore: 
Howbeit I see God's works which be knowen to none> 
For his jugements be secret tyll they be past and gone? 

As I loked about and cast my hed aside, 
Beyng faynt with travell, and in wofull playnt. 
Power knyghts* on a rowe by me I aspied. 

' The next day after the comnuttal of the Buke of Somerset to 
the Tower, the Dutchesg, with her feyourites Mr. and Mrs. Crane, 
Sir Thomas Holcroft, Sir Michael Stanhope, Sir Thomas Arundel^ 
Sit Ralph Vame, Sir Miles Partridge and others were committed 
to the same prison; and these were followed at short interrals by 
the Lord Paget, the Earl of Amndel, and Lord Baere of the 
North. Bat of all those accused as accomplices, or implicated in 
bia alleged crimes, the fow kiugkts vdiom Cavendish here brings 
Oft the stage were aU that suffered capital pnnishmei^t. They 
were convicted on similar evidence to that brought against the 
dnke, perhaps as Sir John Hay ward asserts, ** because it was not 


Desyryng me vouchesalve for to consent 
To Wright their myshappe whilest they ware present: 
600 to^ than^ (quod I) and say what ye lyst^ 
Your sayengs I woU wright^ or I desist 

With that I hard a sound and a wonderous noyce^ 
As though they wold have spoken all at 00ns, 
Whos speeches semed me to be but oon voyce; 
They shevered for cold, with bare and naked boons; 
Fun lamentable was their woofall moons: 
They agreed at last, and oon spake first of all; 
Thes ware his words, of whom I make rehersall. 

thought fit that sueh a person should be executed alone, who 
could hardly be thought to offend alone.'' Sir Thomas Arundel 
and Sir Michael Stanhope were beheaded on Tower Hill, and Sir 
Ralph Vane and Sir Miles Partridge were hung on the same 
Q>ot. All of them at the place of execution made the most so- 
lemn protestaticnis of innocence, and it was the opinion: of/many 
that Somerset was much cleared by the death of thede,men^ who 
were executed with a view to make his death appear only a tribute 
to justice. Sir Ralph Vane, after speaking of'his'serrieSss in the 
field^ concluded by saying ''The time hath been when I was of 
some esteem, but now we. are in peace, which reputeth the coward 
and courageous alike.*' He scorned by any submission to entreat 
for life, but at the place of execution assured the spectators in the 
strongest language of the innocence of himself and his fellow suf- 
ferers, and that as often as Northumberland should lay his head 
on his pillow he would find it wet with their blood. 



Alas! (quod he) some tyme I was a kByght, 

Bejmg in my contre of great estimation ; 

By my father AroundfeH^-evyn so^my name hight,. 

A yonger brother I was by dewe generation. 

And with the Cardinal Wollsey was myseducasion; 

Whos favor bronght me first to aboondaonce 

Of riches and possessions of great inheritaance.- 

Chancellor I was also, onworthy though I ware. 

To Katheren Howard, that some tyme was queue; 

Such fayned favor than fortune me bare, - 

That worthy of dignitie.she did me esteme; 

As I than thought she used me so cleane: 

But the queue is dekayed and past this vyle passage. 

Which by wanton youthe was brought in dotage. 

Yet it was of trouthe I must neds confesse; 

Se of privye malice howe Crod now plagethe me, 

Evyn for his cause, whos cause causeles 

I was cheafe cause to bryng to calamjrtie. 

Tea God in his jugements a right wyse juge woU be; 


For thoagh I offandyd not wherein found gyltie. 
Yet bathe GSod ponyshed me for my priyye enrye. 

Bat will you see a wonderous thyng 
That God hathe wronf^t by dyvyn op^racionl 
Marke nowe^ and ye shall here shortly, concludyng: 
With the Dnke of Northumberland I was in consul- 

Who bare the Doke of Somerset high indignacion: 
I was cheafe conncellor in the first overtbrowe 
Of the Doke of Somerset^ which few men dyd know^. 

Thinke not to escape, ye that do offend. 
The punysshment of God for yonr offence; 
He knowyth the secrets that you do pretend, 
Thoughe it be wrought witii a secret pretence; 

^ I am not aware ihat this circumstance of Sir Thomas Arundel 
haying been confederate formerly with Northumberland in endea- 
vouring to ruin the Duke of Somerset, is elsewhere recorded. 
Cavendish asserts that it was known but to few. The condemna- 
tion of Sir Thomas was not procured without difficulty; his trial 
commenced at seven o'clock in the morning; about noon the jury 
retired to deliberate on their verdict, and were shut up during the 
remainder of the day and the whole of the next nij^t before they 
could come to an agreement. The following morning tiiey came 
into court and pronounced him guilty. 


Ye cannot blynd his dyryn intellygenoe; 
Therefore ame I pnnyshed for my conspiracye 
Ayenst the innocent with my deadly ennemye. 

To be hanged thoughe my jogement waxe> 
Yet to do me honour they chaynged ther sentence. 
And to leese my hed to ease me of my care; 
But death was the thyng of all theF pretence 
Which they dewred; such was ther concyence. 
Here I make an end^ and I without redresse, 
As here ye may se me, a symple body hedlesse. 


Than came forthe anoHier makyng lyke complaynt^ 
And sayed he was a knight dobbyd by the kyng. 

^ Sir Michael Stanhope was related to the Dutchess of Somer^ 
set, as was also Sur MOes Partridge; *^Both (says Hayward) 
reputed indifferently disposed to had or good, yet neither of them 
of that temper as to dare any dangerous &ct/' They prohahly 
suffered more on account of their strict alliance with Somerset 
than from any guilty participation in his schemes of amhition or 


That worthy prynce, that worthy innocent, 

Edward the Syxt, virtaous in lyvyng. 

As it appered in all his procedyng; 

Of whos privye chamber I was without dongfat, 

And nowe condempned and clean cast owt 

Our deathes ware.conspyredtosatisfiie and cont^at 
Some persons that tboughte we ^stode in ther way. 
In suche matters which after did ^repent; 
They studyed to compas, both nyght and- day, 
Ther purpose how they myght by pollicy conveye 
To bryng that to passe which they long loked for. 
That oons knowen did all honest harts abhorre. 

Nowe we be deade and passed thes stormy showers. 
Let them alone which wrought us all this woo; 
The day wyll come whan they woll the death of owers 
Repent fidl sore; fortune may tome hir purpose soo. 
For Fortunes whele tomythe often to and froo: 
The experience ye may behold whan we be gon; 
Farewell, my frends ! hedles I leve you alon. 



Too other knyghts, that ware of that band, 
Complayned them sore of fortuned chauiice. 
Whom she had taught for to understand. 
How to knyghthod she did them lately avaunce. 
And gave them possessions of great enheritaunce; 
But at last she favoured so their high degree. 
That they ware bothe hanged uppon a gallowe ttee. 






I LAKB teaies to lament^ and connyng to compile 
Matter sufficient of fame most worthye; 
My wytt is to dull for so lamentable a style^ 
And my penne is to blonnt to pnt in memory 
Of Edward the Sixt the woofoll tragedie. 
Which hathe here passed the paynftdl passage 
Of thes mondayn stotmes in his tender age. 

He was a kyng royal, of byrthe and of port; 
In virtue surmountjrng, gamyshed with grace; 
In vice he had no joye ne any disport ; 
Sober in countenance, no lyghtnes in his face ; 
All was don with gravitie, in tyme and in place; 
Yong he was in yeres, but in manners sage; 
Yet deathe devoured hym in his tender age. 

Ah deathe! most cruel, thyself to revenge 
On so tender an impe of vertue the flower: 


Oh deathe! thy bytt^ was byttei in tarenge*; 
Alas! I say, that ever we saw that hower. 
That thou sholdest so craelly this prince devoure, 
Hegardyng hyme no more than a poore page; 
Thou sholdest have spared hym in hys tender age. 

In connyng and wysdome, Solomons ri^t heyer; 
His wytt was so excdlent, his sentence so profound; 
Absolon in beawtie, his visage was so fayer: 
If he myght have lyved ther shold not have byn found 
A prynce more excellent raynyng on the ground*; 

* Jytt, i. e. bite. * tarenge, tearing. 

^/'If he myght have lyred there shold not have byn found 
A prynce more excellent raynyng on the ground.^' 

This character of Edward is very honourable to the writer; for 
that prince's memory has not been very much cherished by the 
adherents of the catholic church, on account of the xeal with wfaidi 
he forwarded the great work of the Reformation. Hume indeed 
has summed up his brief sketch of Edward's character in kindrefd 
terms: ''He possessed mildness of disposition, application td 
study and business, a capacity to learn and judge, and an attach*- 
ment to equity and justice. He seems only to have contracted, 
from his education and from the genius of the i^ in which he 
lived, too much of a narrow prepossession in matters of religion, 
which made him incline somewhat to bigotry and persecution: but 
as the bigotry of protestants, less governed by priests, lies under 
more restraints than that of catholics, the effects of this malignant 



Yet for all his virtues and noble parentage, 
Deathe hathe hyme devoured in his tender age. 

Noble Alexander, whom clarkes call Severe, . 
That was of Rome emperonr by eleccion. 
Who rewled his empier in love and in feare 
Dnryng all his lyve, by clemency and correccion ; 
To whom this yong kjmg myght make comparison, 
Yf deathe would have spared in hir cruel rage, 
Hyme to devoure in his yong and tender age. 

quality were the less to be apprehended if a longer life had been 
granted to young Edward.'' Dr. Lingard thinks the praises which 
have been lavished on him should be receivM with some degree 
of caution, and says it may be a question whether his early death 
has not proved a benefit to the Church of England, as it is at pre- 
sent established, because his sentiments were tinged with Calvin- 
ism, and he might perhaps have been persuaded by his rapacious 
courtiers, whose appetite for the spoils of the church was insatiable, 
to have entirely suppressed bishoprics and chapters, in order that 
ihey might devour the remainder of her possessions. I fear the 
historian's usual candour and circumspection have forsaken him in 
bis estimate of the character of this prince, and the probable con- 
sequences of a more extended reign; surely we have reason to 
think that the horrors which succeeded in the reign of his sister 
Mary would not have sullied the page of history, if it had pleased 
the* Disposer of events to have spared his life until the work of 
reformation, so temperately and well forwarded during the brief 
space in which he filled the throne, had been more fuDy estabUsbed 
by authority, reason, and custom. 


Wanton yonthe raygned in hyme nothyng at all^ 
But wysdomc; connyng^ and sober grav3rtie; 
For all his care and study pryncypall 
Was to consider hys charge knytt to his dignytie. 
And to goreme his subjects injustice and equytie^ 
And nobly to raygne without any owtrage: 
This was his disport in his tender age. 

A virgin prynce, a mayden kjmg. 
Never corrupte with thought oncleane; 
So chaste he was in all hys lyvyng^ 
Suche grace in hyme was daylye seen^ 
That all men dyd bothe juge and deme 
Deathe to be to blame in hir^ fond rage^ 
This prynce to devour in his tender age. 

From hyme all vice vanished was by grace. 
That no rdte of onclenness cowld take hold; 
Vertue had so fumyshed fully in the place 
Which made vice in hyme so fyble and cold. 

^ ^* Deatbe to be to blame in Mr fond rage/' 
Our ancestors in tbeir personification of Death represented it as 
a female deity. 


And virtue so f amylier that made hyme so bold. 
With diseression to rewie hys reahne and barottage, 
Tyll deathe devoured hym in his tender age. 

With pride he never entendyd to stryve^ 
Of covetous^ fdso he had non acquaintannoe. 
Nor had indignation to any man alyre. 
And to be revenged he never knew vengeannce, 
Gloteny could not prevayle for ten^^rance, 
Idelnes was banysbed, his ccHBBiyn usa^^ 
Diseression so rewled his tender ag^e. 

My stile to dicect wiAh trewe dyligence^ 
This royal prynce to commend evyn at the filll. 
Of connyng claikes I want die eloqaence; 
My experyence in suche matters are very dnil. 
And wysdome is banysbed my old^ g^osse dcoll; 
Therfore I beseche the. Lord, which is eternally 
That in hevyn this prynce may ray^ inunorfall. 

' covetous, i. e. covetise or coyetousness. 

^ By this passage we perceiye that €reorge Cavendish was now 
descended into the vale of years: his younger brothor. Sir Wil- 
liam, is said to have been born about the year 1505. 



MuSYKG of this world and of the incertentie. 

Where nother prjrnce^ 1^3ntLg> ne any other estate 

In lusty youthe floryshyng in felicities 

Can have of deathe any sewer date; 

For whan deathe sayllie oons to them^ chekemate^ 

6eve ofer the pIaj/« for ye have lost the giund; 

This was my last stndye musyng on the same. 

Percejrvyng at the last it ware great folly 

Fer&er to muse of liiyngs in expe^ence, 

Mliich daylie id seen^ bothe symple and jolly. 

That departithe this lyfe where can be no resistance, 

For all must desolve and departe from hence; 

Therfdre to be sorrye it ware but a madnes, 

For after old sorfowes comyth newe gladnes. 

The wetiier htoke uppe that cloady was byfore, 
And the sonne gave lyght whom myites did deface. 
But God that knewe otir lamentable sote. 


Hathe agayn of his especyall grace 
Tomed our old sorrowes to a newe solace; 
For the losse of a kyng which was a virgin dean. 
He hathe restored us a mayden quene. 


Whomb our Lord of his benygne goodnes 
Hathe preserved from many stormye showers^ 
Or ells had she peryshed in great distresse; 
But nowe hathe he made hjrr a quene of owers. 
Whom Jesu defend all tymes and howers. 
And geve hyr grace to rewle thys realme in peaee. 
To the honor of God, onr welthe and quyet ease. 

Let us love hir with faythftdl harts. 

For she is our lawfuU quene, bom by just dissent ; 

We be hir subjects, it is therfore our parts 

To be to hir obedyent, with a good entent. 

And let us not dought that ever we shall repent; 

Tf we do Otherwysci our wytts be to blunt. 

Quia corda regum in manu Dei sunt. 


God hathe ordened hir to raygn in this regally. 
Therefore lyke trewe subjects let us be content; 
To grudge ayenst God it ware a jgreat folly; 
For he is a Lord that workyth his devyn intent 
Secretly and cloos ayenst all mens intendment^; 
His workes be not khowen unlill they come to passe, 
Therfore hyme to prevent* thou art a very asse. 

Yf thou pretend Grods holy word to kiiow, 

Whye dost thou rebell ayenst hir grace. 

Maliciously abrode scedycioh to sowe. 

To slander hir hcmor, hir virtue to deface 

With any falce reports as some of late base? 

Majmtayn non suche, let them not be releved. 

For from the comon welthe they owght to be remeved. 

To travell any further hir virtues to comend, 

My tyme I shold spend with insufficyence; 

Though my will be good my wytt cannot comprehend 

' 'ayenst all mens intendment/ i. e. above all men's under- 

^ to jtrevent here signifies to ttnticipate. 


All hyr noUes and hygfae magnyficowe, 
Worthely to prayse as I ow^t of congraenoe; 
Therfore lest my rode stile sludd tfa^n dietaxe, 
I hir commyt to the pnrtection of God's grace. 

Leavyng hyr with God, whome she lovyth best» 

She is his servamt, he noil not hir disseyve. 

Nor leave hir with ennemyes cmelly to be opprest. 

From whos malyce he will hir leceyve 

Into his protection, as we rf late peiceyre 

How he hathe preserved fair, this royal qncaie : 

Defend hir, good Locd, fixm ennemyes yet not seen. 



Now let me retonme to the foute knyghts 
That late soffired deathe, I know not the cattse. 
But the wyll to fullffll of a man of myght. 
Which caused them to dye by colour of the lawes; 
Wherin was found a certyn defuse^ clause^ 
Wrested by craft to a male intent. 
To cause them to dye that tiierin wave innocent. 

As I sat complajniyng, in my stodye alone. 

The deathe of thes knyghts and of llier wokiful fall. 

My hart was so greyed I could no wyse biit mone, 

Rebukyng fortune most iu especyall, 

"Which is of nature bothe cruel and mutalP, 

Without all pitie and will no mercy have 

Of non estate ther honors to deprave. 

' defutey i. e. dark, obscure. See vol. i. p. 92, 
^ mutaU is mutable, changeable. 


Thes Clarkes old' that wrott woofiil tragedies, 
I pray you ware not ther playnts of hygfae estates, 
Recordyng ther onware falls and dayngerous jeopar- 
Ther sodeyn changes and ther woofoU fates, 
Ther disdaynous dispyghts and onnatnrall debates ; 
Allwayes concludyng, who list' to take heade, 
Howe hyghe estates are alwayes in most dreade. 

With that, in blakke, I sawe ocm come and goo, 
Whos countenance was sade,nowe standing in a staye. 
His looke downcast in token of sorowe and woo. 
The salt teeres in droppes on his bare cheeke laye. 
Which bare record of his woo and deadly affray; 
Wherfore he prayed me my penne for to redresse. 
And therwith to discrybe hys playnts and hevynes. 

3 ^ Thes Clarkes old/ The allusion is most probably to Lyd- 
gate's '' Boke of Johan Bocas, descryving the &U of princes, prin- 
cesses, and other npbles/' I presume that Cavendish when he 
began his visions was unacquainted with any part of the Mirror for 



Th e ground (quod he) and begj^nnyng of my destruction 
I shall to you reherse shortly in sentence; 
Tt was covetous pryde and hyghe presumpoion, 
Disdaynyng all men of royal excellence, 
Covetyng by xavyn* to have the preemynence; 
And whome I suspectyd that stade in my waye^ 
I shortly by falahod intended ther dekay. 

First I caused a duke wrongfully to dye. 
By rigor of the lawes purposely invented; 
Yt hathe not byn hard in my symple fantzy, 
A did^e for fellony to be convented^ 

^ raoyn, i. e. rapine, fon», or violence, from jieapian, Sax. 
whence also rapine is derived. The permutation of the letters 
/, h, V, and p is well known to etymologists. Milton uses the 
substantive rapine much in the same sense with Cavendish's ravyn. 

" Her least action overaw'd 

His malice, and with rapine sweet bereav'd 
His fierceness of its fierce intent.'' 

^ eonvented, i e. called before a judge or judicature. Thus in 
Measure for Measure : 

— ^— — — "what he with his oath 
And all probation will make up full clear 
Whensoever he's convented.'^ 


Williout any acte wherby that he offendyd; 
But of cankard malice my croelty to follfyll. 
Caused hyme and knyghts fower to dye onTow^Hyll. 

Froward ambycion set so my hart on fi^ 

To assend uppe the imperyall see. 

And to possesse the govemaimce of the a&pier; 

I did the best that lay in me 

To rewl6 thys realme and have die soverayntie; 

Thys was my purpose by covetous and pride. 

Whan I sawe tyme, the just titile to sett aside. 

For lyke a subject to lyve I was not content. 
But this realme to goveme most lykest a ky^g^ 
Which caused me to study what meanes to inyent, 
My desier to attayne and to my purpose bryng; 
I revolved in my brayn, immagynyng every th3^g, 
Howe to goveme and rewle, and still in this land, 
TOI at the last this subtiltie^ I fand. 

I had a sonne that tender was of age. 
Which greatly stode in my conceyt and favor, 

^ subtiltie is a wile, a plot, or contrivance. 


Whome I intendyd than to joyn in manage 
To the doughter of Suffolk, the dvkes enheritor. 
And so in possifailitte mj^t be successor 
IJnto the emperyall croivn, by law^s of this land. 
As by the statutes ye may well understand. 

Thus I presumed by Calce usurpation. 

In all Englond to quenche the cleare light, 

And troble the lynne of just succession. 

Which I intendyd by force, and not of ryght. 

Contrary to the order of a royal knyght, 

To subdue the lawfull queue, I falcely did ordeyn. 

That I in this regyon the quyeter myght rayn. 

1 assembled to ayd me, shortly to conclude, 
A great number of people in every degiee 
Advauncyng thus forward with a confused multitude, 
Without any title, but grounded on sotiltie^; 
Wherfore the gentlemen and comons of the countrie. 
All of oon assent and in oon opynyon, 
Assembled them together, brought me to C(mftisi(Hi. 

7 sotiUie: the same as subtiltie in the preceding page. 


Thus can the Lord the meke enhaimce^ 
And from ther seats the proud thrust down, 
Specyally them that have no remembrannce 
To remember by wysdome, or by reasown 
To know the Lord, most my^ty of renown; 
The Lord of Lords playnly to compile. 
Who sufferyth tyraunts to raygn but a wyle. 

For cruell murder and falce oppression 
Caused me to stand in great hatred^; 

^ This representatton of the unpopularity of Northumberland for 
the flagrant share he took in the destruction of the Protector Som- 
erset is historically true. Speaking of the execution of Somerset, 
Sir John Hayward says : ^' The people, whose property it is by 
excessive favour to bring great men to misery, and then to be ex- 
cessive in pity, departed away grieved and afraid, and yet feared 
to seem to be afraid ; and fOT this cause chiefly did never beare 
good mind to Northumberland afterwards, although in shew they 
dissembled the contrary : for nothing is more easie than to disceme 
when people observe great men from the heart, or when they do it 
for fashion or for feare. And as it often happeneth that men op- 
pressed work revenge after their deaths, so the remembrance of 
Somerset much moved the people to fall from Northumberland in. 
his greatest attempt, and to leave him to his fatal fall; whereat 
they openly rejoiced and presented to him handkerchiefs dipped in 
the blood of Somerset, for whom they thought he received rather 
late than undeserved punishment. So certain it is that the debts 
both of cruelty and njprcy go never unpaid.'' 


What avaylled me my hyghe domynacion^ 
Without love of the people when I had most nedef 
Whome for a wyle they did honor and dreade: 
But now love and dreade are quenched and gone, 
I ame but a wretche left all alone. 

Take an example howe Mallioi^ of Carthage, 
For all his towers and castles made of stones, 
For his oppression, tyranny, and owtrage. 
The people of Africke fell on hyme all at oons, 
Cattynge his fleshe and hewgh all his bones; 
Entendyng on hyme, they were so wood^. 
Unto ther gods to offer uppe his blood. 

Evyn so was I brought to myschefe and to dreade. 
For all my great power where in I then stode; 
Here may you se who lyst to take heade, 
Howe gery^** fortune, furious, and wood, 

^ wood, i. e. mad. 

'*^ g^9 changeable : probably from girer, Fr. to revolve, turn, 
or change. Chaucer applies the word to Venus t 
" —'—- gety Venua — 

< right as hir dily 

Is gerftd, right so changeth she array/' 


Will not spare for power nor for good, 
Myghty prynces, which lyst not God to knowe^ 
From ther estates to bryng them down full lowe. 

What myght avayle the conquest of great price 

Done by k3rng Zerses in his estate royal. 

Which overcame in battayl, as claikes doth devise. 

Ten hondreth thousand; the nomber was not small, 

Tet for all that be had a cruell fall 

Whan he was, as in storyes is rememlnred. 

On pieces small petyonsly dismembred. 

My seade, my succession, and all my bloode. 
By my default are brought to distruccion; 
Thus cruel fortune most froward and wood. 
For my great pride and falce usurpacion. 
Hath thrown me down and all my generation; 
Thus can fortune with twynklyng of an eye 
Brjmg hyme full lowe that sometyme sat full hye. 

Of myn end what ned it any more to wright. 
Or of my deathe make farther degression, 
God may his vengeaunce a while respight. 


But murder wyll owte, and all suche treason; 
And thoughe it ware my disposicion 
Falcely to murder^ to you I must be playn^ 
Nedes must murder be my guerdon" agayn. 

Therfore I besecfae you that be here alyve, 

Pray for my sowie to that Lord above. 

To pardon my conspyracye that I did late contryve. 

Which ambytious honor therto did me move; 

What madnes is to conspire myself dothe well prove: 

Beware by me, therfore, thynk not to opte]rn 

By rebellious conspiracye ayenst your soverayn. 

And here I make an end of this my complaynt, 
Repentyng me full sore of my corrupt mjrnd; 
My lyfe is consumed, my purpose hath me attaynt: 
Therfore, ye my frends, whom I have left behynd. 
That loved my body, to my sowle be not onk3rnd ; 
Remember me, I beseche you; shortly to conclude. 
This world and fantzy did me thus delude. 

'' guerdon is reward. 




Whan this stout duke had ended thus his playiit, 

Jhesu^ thought I, what^ did this man intend 

To mount the seage royal by forceble constraynt; 

He was ferre overseen so madly to offend^ 

Yt was no loyaltie thus to assend; 

Thereby to einjoye the throne emperyaD^ • 

His fond enterprice requirethe a just fall. 

Bejrng discontent partly in my mynd. 

To se a man of honor and of hygh discression. 

With ambycion to be so bjBtyll blynd. 

That he could not se the segnell progression 

Which dothe ensewe suche hajnaous transgression: 

With that I hard oon crie^ makyng a rewfull mone^ 

That late was in honor^ and now left alone. 



SoMTYME a duke (quod he) of highe estymacion^ 

Of Suffolk, that bare the name and style 

Which hathe nowe corrapted my hole generacion; 

Yt was fortune and fantzy dyd me thus begyle. 

And brought me to ruyn, alas! alas! the whiles 

I lakked wytt, I lakked also reason, 

Ayenst my soverayn whan I comytted treason. 

What neded me conspire that was so ferre in favor 
With the queues grace, whom she called cosyn; 
I myght have at lengthe with my sewte and labor, 
Delyyered my daughter from tilie daynger she was in; 
But wenyng made me thynk allwayes to wyne 
All that I went abought with a corrupt mynd, 
Hopyng to attayn that yet I could not fjoid. 

And when I remember the fond^ enterprice 
Which I toke in hand to compasse and to bryng 

' fimd, i. e. foolish. 


Yt was the greatest folly that I could devyse ; 
Supposyng to assemble so great a rowte 
To take my part and to beare theme owt: 
Ther wytts ware better than I at that tyme had; 
To followe me they ware not so firantyke mad. 

I claimed and proclaymed, from place to place. 
The title to be just of my daughter Jane^ 

^ '' I claimed and procla3rmed, from place to place, 
The title to be just of my daughter Jane/' 

Suffolk's narrow escape from the consequences of his participation 
in Northumberland's measures for placing the ocown on the head 
of Lady Jane Gray had not taught him discretion. He had been 
pardoned and receired into favour ; had given Mary repeated as- 
surances of attachment to h«r person, and had even manifested his 
approbation of her intended marriage with Philip of Spain. But 
his religious scruples, it is presumed, made him upon coiunderatioii, 
think it his duty to oppose himself to that match, and to risk his 
. life and the fortunes of his family in support of the reformed reli- 
gion. Accompanied by his brothers the Lords John and Thomas 
Gray, and about fifty followers, he suddenly retreated toward his 
estates in Warwickshire. It has been doubted whether his purpose 
was to revive the claim of his daughter the Lady Jane^ or whether 
in concert with Wyatt and other conspirators to set up the Princess 
Elizabeth. Cavendish's testimony is therefore important if not 
decisive upon this head. *^ In Leicestershire (says Holinshed) he 
caused proclamation to be made in semblablewise as Sir Thomas 
Wiatt had done aganst the queen's match with the king of Spaine 


In citie and town I trayelled than apase 
To declare hjnr tytle just; but all waft {tf6phaIle^ 
For I sawe my tm^st dayly decrease and Wane: 
Than was I fayne to flee and hide my hed^ 
For if I ware taken shortlie I shold be ded. 

Than was I persewed and sought fw round aboughi^ 

There was no place wherin I myght be suer; 

At the last I was aspied^ taken^ and brought owte; 

(lest it should bring the whole nobilitie and people of this realme 
into bondage and thraldome of strangers) ; but few there were that 
would willingly hearken thereto/^ The Earl of Huntingdon being 
sent in pursuit of him^ with very superior forces, and with the 
country on his side, Suffolk dismissed his followers, rewarding them 
according to their quality and his power, and secreted tmnself and 
ias brother Lord John Grs^ in Astley Park, near Coyentry, when 
they were betrayed to the Earl of Huntingdon, who Jbrought them, 
prisoners to the Tower of London. He was arraigned, and led to 
to the block Feb. 23, 1563. His fate excited little commiseration 
on account of his ingratitude for the leniency which the queen had 
shown to his former offences, and he has been blamed for a disre- 
gard to his daughter's safety. He was followed to the scaffold by 
his brother Lord Thomas Gray, whose ambition equalled that of 
of his brother while he excelled him in enterprise and talent. It 
was thought that he had been chiefly influenced by him to take up 
arms again on this occasion against his sovereign. 

^ praphancy i. e. unhallowed, and therefore unsuccessful. 


For in whome I piit my trust did me first discore^; 
My presnmcion no longer myght endure: 
Than was I taken with shame and dishonor. 
And led away lyke an errant traytor. 

And brought to the barre, tried by my peers. 
Who found me giltie wherin I did offend; 
My offence was evydent as playnly it appeers. 
My colors of trowthe cowld me not defend, 
AUthoughe I excused me howe truly I did intend. 
Yet wold not myn excuse so symple be taken. 
And whan I sawe that, I knew I was forsaken, 

^ Non other remedy than have I, none 
But to make me redye in charitie to dye; 
Yt boted me not to make ferther mone, 
I thought it best, therfore, myself to mortefie. 
And to receyve my deathe most paciently; 

^ discure, that is, discover : so used by Spenser. 
^* I will, if please you it discure, assay 
To ease you of that ill." 

He had trusted himself to the supposed fidelity of one of his ten- 
ants named Underwood, who mored either by the hope of reward 
or the fear of punishment betrayed him. 


Down to the bloke to bowe my hed a lowe; 
This is the sede that disloyaltie dothe sowe. 

Farewell^ Lady Frances! my most lovjmg wyfe, 
Ljmyally dissendyd of the blood rpyall^ 

* Farewell, Lady Frances! my most loryng wyfe, 
Lynyally dissendyd of the blood royall. 
She was the eldest daughter of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suf- 
folk, by Mary sister of Henry the Eighth. Her two brothers 
Henry Duke of Suffolk and the Lord Charles died of the sweating 
sickness in the reign of Edward the Sixth, upon whose death, at 
the instance of the Earl of Warwick, the king created her husband, 
Henry Qray, Marquis of Dorchester, Duke of Suffolk; at the 
same time Warwick was raised to the Dukedom of Northumber^ 
land. Frances had no ambition to ascend a disputed throne, and 
therefore her eldest daughter Jwm was made the innocent mtim of 
Northumberland's ambitious yiews, she haying been preyionsly 
married to his fourth son, the Lord Guildford Dudley. 

Henry VIL 

James IV.==Margaret Louis XII.=Mary=FBrandon Duke 
of Scotland of France of Suffolk 

FrancesspGray Duke EleanoPyClifford Earl 
of Suffolk of Cumbeiland 


Jane^'Ld Guild- Catfaerine^Ld Herbert Mary«=MartinKeys, 
ford Dudley Grent Porter 

toQ. Eliz. 


Though I be gon, and chaynged hathe my lyfe. 
Which myght have lyved still if I had byn loyally 
But presumption hathe nowe distroyed all ; 
Therfore comfort yourself with sober pacience. 
And thynke that notbyng hathe here perpetuance. 

Farewell, my bretheme! for I ame your dekay; 
This is my last farewell; Grod send you of his grace 
To escape the pajaunt^ that I must nedes play. 
For I ame cheafe causer of your offence and trespace: 
Farewell, all ye also, dissendyd of that race. 
Pray God for his mercy my sowle may be saved. 
And my hedlesse body vouchesave to se it graved^. 

^ pajaunt or pageant, any show or spectacle. Thns Shakspeare : 
' I'U play my part in fortune's pageant,' 

^ granted^ i. e. buried. Thus Lord Surrey in his translation of 
the Fourth iEneid : 

Cinders, think'st thou, mind this, or graved ghosts. 
And Shakspeare in K. Richard II. 

And lie full low graved in the hollow ground. 
Again in Timon of Athens : 

Ditches grave you all. 



O, Lord Grod! yt is to me a marvelous thyng 
To se the folly, the madnes, and the pryde 
That now among states is dayly reLjajng; 
Yt is for lake of grace to be ther cheife gwyde. 
For vertue and wysdome they are clean sett aside: 
Alas! that you shold your honor so defile 
With fowle disloyaltie, to put all in exile. 

O ye honorables of noble and highe degrees. 
Whan will ye be content with suffisaunce? 
What mean ye so wyllfally, so madly to leese 
Your highe honors and riche enheritaunce 
Thorowghe necligence and your myssegovemaunce: 
Amend your lyves, consider well your callyng, 
Lyve justly, uppr^ht, and for se your fallyng. 

Than sawe I a ladye that tender was of age, 
Sodenly appeere with an hedlesse body; 
The sight was straynge, it abated my corage 


To se so yong a thyug to chaunce on suche folly 
Hir bed to loose, that myght have Ijved fiill jolly: 
By signes without wordes she made me to understand 
To Wright her doole^ that I shold take in hand. 


By sygnes she taught me thus to wright: 

As thoughe (quod she), why did ye me dyssey ve. 

With faynyng fantzye ayenst all equitie and right. 

The regall powers onjustly to receyve. 

To serve your tomes, I do right well perceyve; 

For I was your instrument to worke your purpose by ; 

All was but falshed to bleere withall myn eye. 

O ye councellors, why did ye me avaunce 

To a queues estate, full soore ayenst my mynd, 

Assuryng me it was my just enberitaunce! 

' doole, or dole, sorrow. 


Now, contrarye toyour suggestion, I perceyve and fynd 
All was in vayn, your wytts ware to blynd 
Me to delude ayenst the forme of lawe; 
Forsoothei you ware to blame, and all not worthe a 

Your crepyng and kneljmg to me, poor innocent. 
Brought me to wenyng with your perswasions. 
That all was trewthe which ye ontruly ment; 
Suche ware your arguments, siiche ware your reasons. 
Made to me at sondrye tymes and seasons; 
Yoursubtilldealyngdissayyedhathe botheyOu audme, 
Dissimulacion woU not serve nowe may you se« 

Cowld non experyence force you to know 
Howe dissimulacion and covert craftynes 
Hathe byn the occasion of the overthrowe 
Of many a person beyng in welthynes*. 
And suche as used the face of dublenes; 

* welthines, WeUh ia before used in these poems in contradis- 
tinction to woe, to signify a tranquil and prosperous condition, in 
the same manner as weal is used in more modern lan^age. 


Wherfore dissimuladon and crafty dealyng 
Hathe brought yon and me to utter undoyng. 

For your pryncely powers and hanlt dygnyties 
Assured me with suche perfection, 
To-establyshed me in the hyest degrees^ 
Untill fortune hathe brought us into subjecdon. 
Of the lawes to abyde the pablyke correccion; 
Nowe accuse we fortune as cheafe ground of our falle. 
And yet is she not giltie no thyng at all. 

Yt is your pride and pevyshe^ presumpcion 

That hathe us led to this myschaunce. 

By means wherof all is in consumpcion: 

Where be now your promysis and your assuraunce? 

Where is your ayed? where is your mayntenaunce? 

^ " To-establyshed me in the hyest degrees." 
The prefix to is here only an augmentative particle, frequently 
thus used in our older language. Take one instance out of many 
to be found in Chaucer. 

'' His shelde to-dashed with swerds and with maces. 

Troihis and Cresdide, B, ii, v. 640. 
^ pevytke, i. e. foolish. 


Be they not abated and layed Ml lowe? 

Yf ye wold denye, yet all the world doth kndwe. 

My sorowes are treble a»d full of doble woo. 
To remember the tragedy and wofull case 
That to my father, my hosbond, and me also ^ 
Ys happened, thoronghe folly and lake of grace ; 
Yt causithe the teeres to ran down my face. 
And to lament your mysfortune and myn. 
By such blynd folly to fall into rewyn. 

Wherfore the Lord that is Lord of lords all. 
And sittjrth in heven above the Iherarcheyes, 
Behold and consider our whofuU fall. 
We the beseche, with thy mercyfoll eyes, ^ 
And geve thy holy eares to our lamentable cries; 
As thou art mercyfull of thyn owne natures. 
So have mercy on us thy poore creatures* 

Farewell, madame! farewell, lady mother! 
Farewell, my sisters! farewell^ my firendes all! 
Helpe us with your prayers our prayers to further 


Unto God aUmyght, the Lord snpemall> 
That he his grace will unto hyme call 
The sowles of his creatures that now lyeth deade. 
Which by the lawes hathe^ receyved our meade. 

' kaihe for have. 



To answer hir complaynt I wist not what to say, 
Wherfore I thought to pawse and rest a while, 
Entendyng here to have made a stay. 
No more to wright of this wofuU style, 
Suppos3mg that fortune cowld no more begile 
Men so well warned of hir fayned flatterye. 
The experience being of late had in memorye. 

Yet some there be that wantyth God's graced 
Whos wytts be oppressed so with vice. 
Though fortune doth still them menace. 
Yet of suche precedents they set small price, 
But runnyng hedlong without any advice 

' This and the following stanza are crossed out with a pen in the 
original MS. It appears that it had heen the intention of Caven- 
dish to extend his poem so as to embrace other characters, to whose 
appearance these stanzas are the induction. The leaves of the 
manuscript are very much transposed, but there are references in 
a cotemporary hand writing showing the order in which it is to 
be read. Nothing occurs after these stanzas but the Epitaph on 
Queen Mary, and the Author's Address to his Book. 



Untill all myschefe and utter distraction, 
Lyke men given to all evyll dysposition. 

That sentence is trewe, yt cannot be denyd 

(Quod oon to me), for I have felt the smart; 

Thexperience in me is evydently aspied. 

Which causythe me to lament with a carefoU hart: 

With that I cast myn eye aside, where I did advert 

A rowt with sorrowe woofully arayed. 

And oon most rewfiilly to me these words he sayd — 




DiscBND from hevyn, O Muse Melpomene, 
Thou moumfhll goddesse, with thy sisters all. 
Passe in your playnts the wofuU Niobe, 
Tome musyke to mone with teeres etemall, 
Blake be your habetts, dyme, and fiineral ; 
For deathe hathe bereft, to our great dolour, 
Mary our mastres, our queue of hon(^. 

Our queue of hoii(»*, compared aptly 
To Veritas victrix, daughter of Tyme, 
By God assisted, amased in armye. 
When she a virgin cleare, without cryme. 
By ryght, without might, did happely clyme 
To the stage royal, just inheritor, 
Proclaymed Mary our queue of honor. 



And as a victrix, yalerus endewed 
With justice, prudence, high mercy, and force, 
Dredles of danger, with sword subdued 
Her yassells rebells, yet havyng remorse. 
With losse of few she saved the cursse; 
Suche was thy mercy, surmountyng rigour, 
O Mary, mystress! O queue of honour! 

To a virgin lyfe, which lyked the best, 
Profest was thyii hart; whan, moved with zele 
And teeres of subjects expressing request. 
For no lust, but love of the common weale. 
Virginities' vowe thou diddest repelle, 
Knytt with a kyng coequal in valour, 
Thyn estate to conserve as queue of honour. 

The Roos and pomgrahat joined in oon, 
England and Spain by espousal allyed; 
Yet of thes branches blosscnnes came none 
Wherby ther kyngdoms myghte be supply'd; 
For this conjunction a comytt envied. 
Influence castyng of mortal vapour 
On Mary the rose, our queue of honour. 


Then faded the jBower that wyllome^ was freshe, 

For Boreas blasts dyd wether away 

The spyritt of lyfe from the tender flesh 

Of that impe royal, that pryme rose gay. 

Equal in odor to Flora in May: 

The virtue vanished with vitall vigour 

From our fayer Mary, our queue of honour. 

Though virtue vitall dyd vanyshe away, 
Hir virtues inward remayn immortal, 
Eteme, and exempte from deathe and dekay. 
As fountaynes flowyng with course contynuall; 
As vere^ in verdure and greene perpetuall. 
Or lamps ever lyght and supplyed with licoure, 
Enduryng endles to Mary's honoure. 

Add there to virtue, blood, and parentage. 

In all Europa no prynces equall. 

So noble of byrthe, discent, aiid lyneage. 

* wyUome, usually spelt whihme, the same as erewhile, before, 
or onetime. 

* vere or ver, i. e. spring. 


As no man can nomber the joynts legale 
Of Emperors old and houses regall: 
No herauld hewked^ in kyngs coate annonie^ 
Sufficyth to blaze our Mar/s hononre. 

Lament^ ye lords and ladys of estate. 

Yon pnissannt prynces and dukes of degree. 

Let never nobles appere so ingrate 

As to forget the great gratujrtie 

Of graces granted and benifits fire, 

Gevyn and re$t(Mred oonly by favour 

Of noble Mary, our queue of honoure. 

Hyghe prieste of Rome, O Paule appostolike. 
And college conscrypte of cardynalls all. 
And ye that confesse the fayth catholyke. 
Of Christs Churche chief in yertfae unyversall; 
O clerks and religious, to you I call. 
Pray for your patron, your frend, and founder, 
Mary our mastress, our queue of honoure. 

^ ' herauld hewked' forsan hewed? from bis many coloured suit. 


Which late restored the right religion*; 
And fayth of fathers observed of old, 
Subdewd sects and all dyrision, 
Reducyng the flocke to the former fold; 
A pillar most firme the church to uphold: 
Loo, where she lyeth, trew faythes defendour, 
Mary our mastrei^s, our queue of hououre. 

* Cayendish's lament over Mary is not merely poetical, but 
proceeded from a sincere and pious feeling of the loss which ho 
considered the right religion, the faith of his fathers, would suffer 
by the fall of this pillar of the Catholic Church. The fact is, that 
Mary has been painted in blacker colours than her conduct, dis- 
passionately considered, warrants. I am not about to join in the 
panegyric of the text, but surely Hume and others of our popular 
historians have gone too far in handing her down to posterity as a 
monster of crime, deformed in mind and in person, without one 
redeeming virtue but sincerity. It should be remembered that the 
accounts we have of her reign are almost without exception from 
writers whose prejudices were strongly opposed to an in^rtial 
examination or representation of its leading events, and perhaps 
no mode of flattering Elizabeth could be found more grateful than 
that of opposing her own character to an exaggerated picture of 
that of her predecessor. That the annals of Mary are foully 
stained with bloody persecutions hardly paralleled in modem his- 
tory must be confessed ; but this was more the fault of her creed, 
and of the unfortunate influence of a doctrine which teaches that 
to extirpate heretics 'to subdue sects and all division, and to reduce 
the flock to its former fold,' as Cavendish expresses it, is the high- 
est of virtues, and that to effect it recourse must be had to the 
purifying influence of fire, to the ruthless terrors of torture and the 


Whan sacred aulters ware all defaced^ 
Images of saints with outrage burned^ 
Instade of priests apostatas placed. 
Holy sacrements with spight down spomed. 
Whan spoylle and ravyn hade all oyertnmed; 
This chaos confuse, thys hepe of horrour, 
Dissolvethe Mary as queue of honoure. 

Elizabethe, excellent of God elect. 

With cepture to sytt in state imperyall. 

In throne thriumphant, where thou art erect. 

sword. If the catholic church was not singular in inculcating this 
as a duty, at least its most strenuous advocates must allow that 
it has been unfortunate in the excess of zeal with which in all 
ages its partisans have endeavoured to compel conformity by the 
most cruel persecutions. By those who have viewed Mary's cha- 
racter with more lenient eyes, she has been allowed ' the praise of 
piety, clemency, of compassion for the poor, and liberality to the 
distressed,' and of some acts of retributive justice to those who had 
been wrongfully despoiled by her predecessors. Her life and 
manners were at least free from reproach in regard to domestic 
virtues, her friendships were lasting and sincere, and she possessed 
that vigour of mind which was inherent in her family, yet knew 
how to yield t^e preference in some instances to right over expe- 
diency. Bishop Godwin says of her : *^ Mulier sane pia, demens, 
moribusque castissimis, ut usque quaque laudanda, si religionis 
errorem non spectes." And Camden: "Princeps apud omnes oh 
mores sanctissimos, pietatem in pauperes, liberalitatem in nobiles 
atque ecclesiasticos nunquam satis laudata." 


Have deathe allways in thy memoryall^ 
Death is thend of fleshe unyversall; 
The world is but vayne; make for your mirrour 
Mary thy sister, late queue of honour. 

So shall thalmyghty stablyshe thy throne 
In quyet concord and dew obeysaunce. 
And send the a prince to appeas our mone 
With happy reign of long contynuance. 
This thyng reposed in depe remembraunce; 
Say and pray all, O Christ, O Savyoure! 
Have mercy on Mary, our queue of honoure. 

O Virgin Mary, O mother of Jesu! 
O spouse unspotted, and queue etemall! 
As our queue Mary was handmayd trewe 
To the, O lady ! in this lyfe mortal, , 
So of thy grace and bountie speciall 
To the Kyng on hyghe be intercessor. 
In hevyn to crown hir a queue of honoure. 




Crepe forthe^ my boke^ under the proteccion 
Of suche as have bofhe leamjo^g and eloquence; 
Humbly submyttj^g the to the correccion 
Of worthy writers of virtuous excellence, 
Besechyng all them, of ther benygn pacience 
To take the meanyng, however the matter frame. 
Of this thyn auctor, abasshed of his name. 

For, first of all, whan I do behold 
Of famous writers the goodly circumstance. 
My quaking hand my penne unnethe can hold. 
So dombe I ame of doctryn, lame of experience, 
Stakeryng in style, onsavery of sentence. 
Save oonly hope, that saithe withouten fayll. 
That my well meanyng shall quytt my travayll. 

Thus, not presumyng of leamyng ne eloquence, 
Hope made me shove the boote from the shore; 
Desyrj^g no thyng for my fare or expence. 


But only good wyll; I aske no more: 
And for^ the hurt of envy that myght rore, 
I shall set my shiowd^ for my defence. 
Under the mantell of well< wyllyng audyence. 

And pryncypally this my worke for to assist, 

I humbly beseche that Lord that is etemall 

To defend my penne that wrott this with my fist^ 

To be my savegard, my staffe, and my wall; 

And consequently for feare least I shold fall 

In the daynger of the learned^ and honorable sort, 

I pray them all my lamenes to support. 

Least perchaunce the pleasaunt floode do faylle 
Of witty writyng or sugred eloquence, 

* * And for the hurt of envy,' i. e. ogomA the hurt of enyy. 
Enyy being the came of his seeking to shrond himself. 

^ A shrowd signified a shield or bnckler, and metaphorically 
any kind of defence, coyerture, or place of protection. 

3 Ueast I shold fall 

In the dajfnger of the learned and honorable sort.' 
That is, * lest I should encounter their censure, or fall into the control 
of their severe judgment.' The phrase has its origin from the bar- 
barous Latin in dangerio, and is commcm to Chaucer and our elder 
writers as well as to Shakspeare and his cotemporaries. 


FoUowe, therfore^ good wyll at the boots tayle. 
Me to preserve in the waves of ignoranncey 
Socoured by hope of gentill snfferaunce: 
No we hale uppe^ skuller; God graunt me wynd> 
And Jhesu defend me to my lives end. 

Whan thon^ my boke^ comest into the prease 
Bothe of the wyse and learned mnltitade. 
To excuse thyn anctor thou canst do no lesse> 
Wantyng leamyng, and of utterance rude. 
Which did never this enterprise entrude; 
Trustyng other of wytt or leamyng. 
But for an exercise, and non other thyng. 

Nams Rex, nam Lex. Nova sola Regina, probz. pene nctna. 

♦ By this is meant the Fourth Year of the Reign of Philip, and 
the Fifth of Queen Mary, answering to 1558. The Latin rhyming 
sentence Cavendish appears to have added after the commencement 
of Elizabeth's reign. How for from a true prophecy it proved, the 
long and prosperous reign of Elizabetii may witness. 








Among the other calumnies with which the memory of 
the unfortunate Queen Anne Boleyn has been aspersed 
hy the enemies of the ReformatioUj it has been said — 
" that she had long carried on a criminal intercourse with 
Sir Thomas Wyatt the poet; who, we are told, had gone 
so far as to confess to the king that he had debauched her; 
and had urged this, in the first instance, as an argument 
to dissuade the king from marrying her'' The story 
requires no refutation; but Wyatfs name having been 
called in question when Anne Boleyn's conduct was scru- 
tinized, gave the forgers of fabulous history an opportunity 
(f engrafting their libellous inventions on slight circum- 
stances, in order to give them something of the colour of 
probability. How far there was any foundation for these 
calumnies will now appear. The following interesting 
pages were written, it is presumed, by the grandson of the 
poet, George Wyatt, Esquire, sixth son and heir of Sir 
Thomas Wyatt the younger, who was beheaded for rebel- 
lion in the first year of the reign of Queen Mary. The 
writer died at the advanced age of eighty, at Boxley in 
Kent, in the year 1624, and seems to have meditated a 
complete exposure of such parts of Saunders* Book on the 
Reformation as came tmthin his own immediate know- 
ledge. He was maternal uncle to Sir Roger Twysden, 
and in 1623 communicated to him part of his collections. 
A fragment of the Life of Cardinal Wolsey, by George 
Cavendish, was in the late Mr. Bindley's library, to 
which we have already referred, at p. 57 of the present 
edition; prefixed to which was the following note by Sir 



Roger Twysden, — ^^Ireceaved this from my uncle Wyati^ 
Anno \6^3y who beeing yonge had gathered many notes 
towching this lady, not without an intent to have opposed 
Saunders.'^ It is remarkable that this fragment from 
Wolsey's Life has been twite printed as a pitte of original 
and authentic cotemporary history, without suspicion of 
its being an extract from Cavendish; — the first time for 
private distribution, in \QOB, and secondly by Dr. Nott, 
in his appendix to Wyatt*s Poems, in 1816. 

The manuscript from which the present very interesting 
memoir is printed, was purchased at the late Sir Peter 
Thompson's sale. It is in the hand writing of the Rev. 
John Lewis, of the Isle of Thanet, the celebrated anti- 
quary. It was printed in IS \7 for a few noblemen and 
gentlemen, but twenty-seven copies only having been taken 
off, may be considered still to have almost the rarity of a 



Thb pecuUar means that I have huA, more than 
others, to come to some more partionlar knowledge 
of snch thin^ as I intend to handle, onghi to draw 
dius miidi from me; yet madh more the request of 
him that hath been by authority set on work in 
this iinportant business, both for the sili^ar gif%s 
of God in him, of wisdom, learning, integrity, and 
virtae; and also the encouragement I have had of 
late from the right reverend my Lord of Canterbury's 
grace, to set down what understanding I Imve had 
of this matter, is both my warrant, and a bond the 
more upoh my conscience, to h(dd me urged and 
constrained not to neglect such an opportunity of 
my service to the church, my prince, and ccmnttf. 
Prmdpally his desire was, and my purpose in satis* 
fying it, to deKver what I knew, touching certain 
things that happened to the excellent lady, the Lady 



Anne Boleigne^ about the time of her first coming 
to the court. Yet^ considering I had some other 
knowledge of things that might be found serviceable 
no less than that^ and also might give light and life 
to the faithftd narration of this whole matter^ I have 
supposed it would fall best, to deliver the same^ as it 
were, under the description of her whole life; and 
this the more particularly and frankly, that, all things 
known, those that I understood were to visit it again 
might take what they should think most material for 
their use. And would to God I could give that 
grace and felicity of style unto it that the worthiness 
of the subject doth require, notwithstanding that In 
this regard I am the less carefiill> for that it is to 
pass through their hands that can give it better ves- 
ture; and I shall the more turn my care to intend 
the sincere and faithfiil delivery of that which I have 
received from those that both were most likely to 
come to the most perfect knowledge hereof, and had 
least cause or, otherwise for themselves, could least 
give just reason of suspicion to any, either of mind, 
or partiality, or wit, to fayne or misreport any whit 
hereof. And, indeed, chiefly the relation of those 
things that I shall set down is come from two. One 
a ladyS that first attended on her both before and 

' Mrs. Anne Gainsford. 


after she was queen^ with whose house and mine 
there was then kindred and strict alliance. The 
other also a lady of noble birth^ living in those timesy 
and well acquainted with the persons that most this 
concemeth^ from whom I am myself descended. A. 
little^ therefore^ repeating the matter more high^ I 
will derive the discourse hereof from the very spring 
and fountains, whence may appear most clearly by 
what occasion and degrees the stream of this whole 
cause hath grown to such an ocean as it were of 
memorable effects through all our parts of Christen^ 
dom, not by chance or wits of men so much as even 
by the apparent work of God, as I hope presently to 
make plain to all men. 

The see of Rome having risen, in this our age, 
unto a full tide of all wickedness, had overflowed 
all these parts of the world with the floods of her 
evils, whereby was occasioned and had beginning 
the ebb of all her pomp, power, and glory, every 
particular devising, as if it had been by one consent 
and accord (so showing it the more apparently to 
come of Grod), to provide for the time to come 
against her so great inundation of mischiefs. Hereof^ 
in England, Germany, Italy, and in many other places, 
sundry persons of singular learning and piety, one 
succeeding another, at divers times, opened their 
mouths as trumpets to call men to this work upon 


j^veral occasions^ «11 lising from the outrageoiis cot^ 
ruptiomi and fosomng iltk of that see. Bat cM^y 
and mo^t nOitoadonAj, in the time of Henry the Eighth, 
of famous memory, this came to pass by the just 
judgment of God upon her, and his mercy npon ns, 
wUere the same polity by which she had in oa^tom, 
and then made herself most assored, to strengthen 
herself in giving to princes licence to unlanvihl con- 
tracts (esteemii^^ thereby to tie them' and their issue 
the more strongly to her); the bond of so evil counsel 
breaking suddenly, set at liberty the certain means 
of this great opposition against her after almost 
through all Europe. So little assurance especially 
have evil foundations of usurped authorities against 
the provoked judgments of Ood by sin, and general 
displeasure of man upon just conceived indignities. 

There was, at this present, presented to the eye of 
the court the rare and admirable beauty of the fiiesh 
and young Lady Anne Boleigna, to be attending 
upon the queen. In this noUe imp, the graces of 
nature graced by gracious education, seamed even at 
the first to have prcmiised blis&i unto her aftertimes. 
She was taken at that time to have a beauty not so 
whitely as clear and fresh above all we may ei^teem, 
which appeared much more excellent by her fkvour 
passing sweet and cheerful; and these, botii also in- 
creased by her noble presence of sh^pe and fashion, 


MMuMtttan id 

Sir Thomas Ws^'att ¥T 


Tepiesenting both mildness and majesty more than 
<;an be expressecl. There was founds indeed^ upon 
the side of her nail npon one of her fingers^ some 
little show of a naU, which yet was so small> by the 
report of those that have seen her« as the workmaster 
seemed to leave it an occasion of greater grace to 
ber handy which> with the tip of one of her other 
fingers^ might be and was usually by her hidden with- 
out any least blemish to it Likewise there were said 
to be upon some parts of her body certain small 
moles incident to the clearest complexions. And 
certainly both these were none other than might 
more stain their writings with note of malice that 
have caught at such light motes in so bright beams 
of beauty^ than in any part shadow it, as may right 
well appear by many arguments, but chiefly by the 
choice and exquisite judgments of many brave spirits 
that were esteemed to honour the honourable parts 
in her, even honoured of envy itself. 

Amongst these, two were observed to be of princi- 
pal mark. The one was Sir Thomas fViat, the elder*, 
the other was the king himself. The knight, in the 
beginning, coming to behold the sudden appearance 
of this new beauty, came to be holden and surprised 

* See the Earl of Surrey's character of him, in an Elegy on his 
Deatii, among his poems. 


somewhat with the sight thereof; after much more 
with her witty and gracefiil speech^ his ear also had 
him chaiaed unto her^ so as finaUy his heart seemed to 
say^ I could gladly yield to^ be tied for ever with the knot of 
her love, as somewhere in his verses hath been thought 
his meaning was to express^. She, on the other 
part, finding him to be then married, and in the knot 
to have been tied then ten years, rejected aU his 
speech of love; but yet in such sort as whatsoever 
tended to regard of her honour, she showed not to 
scorn, for the general favour and good will she per- 
ceived all men to bare him, which might the rather 
occasion others to turn their looks to that which a 
man of his worth was brought to gaze at in her, as, 
indeed, after it happened. The king is held to have 
taken his first apprehension of this love after such 
time as upon the doubt in those treaties of marriage 

3 It is presumed that the allusion is here to Sir Thomas Wyatt's 
verses entitled '^ A description of such a one as he would love:'^ 

A face that should content me wonderous well, 
Should not be faire, but lovely to behold: 
Of lively loke, all griefe for to repel 
With right good grace, so would I that it should 
Speak, without words, such words as none can tell; 
Her tresse also should be of cresped gold. 
With wit and these perchance I might be tide 
And knit againe the knot that should not slide. 

Songes and Sonettes, 8oo« 1557, p. 35, 2. 


with his daij^hter Mary, first with the Spaniard, 
then with the French: by some of the learned of his 
own land he had vehemently in their public sermons^ 
and in his confessions to his ghostly fathers, been 
prayed to forsake that his incestuous life by accom- 
panying with his brother's wife; and especially after 
he was moved by the cardinal, then in his greatest 
trust with the lung, both for the better quietness of 
his conscience, and for more sure settling of the 
succession to more prosperous issue. 

About this time, it is said that the knight, enter- 
taining talk with her as she was earnest at work, in 
sporting wise caught from her a certain small jewel 
hanging by a lace out of her pocket, or otherwise 
loose, which he thrust into his bosom, neither with 
any earnest request could she obtain it of him again. 
He kept it, therefore, and wore it after about his 
neck, under his cassock, promising to himself either 
to have it with her favour or as an occasion to have 
talk with her, wherein he had singular delight, and 
she after seemed not to make much reckoning of it, 
either the thing not being much worth, or not worth 
much striving for. The noble prince having a watch- 
ful eye upon the knight, noted him more to hover 
about the lady, and she the more to keep aloof of 
him; was whetted the more to discover to her his 
affection, so as rather he liked first to try of what 


temper the regard of her honour was^ whiidi he fiad^ 
ing not any way to be tainted with those things 
his kingly majesty and means could bring to the 
battery, he in the end fell to win her by treaty of 
marriage, and in this talk took from her a ring, and 
that wore upon his little finger; and yet all this with 
such secrecy was carried, and on her part so wisely, 
as none or very few eisteemed this other than an or- 
dinary course of dalliance. Within few days after, it 
happened that the king, ^porting himself at bowls, 
had in his company (as it falls out) divers noblemen 
and other courtiers of account, amongst whom might 
be the Duke of Suffolk, Sir F. Brian, and Sir T. Wiat, 
himself being more than ordinarily pleasantly dis- 
posed, and in his game taking an occasion to affirm 
a cast to be his that plainly appeared to be other- 
wise; those on the other side said, with his grace's 
leave, they thought not, and yet, still he pointing 
with his finger whereon he wore hear ring, replied 
often it was his, and specially to the knight he said, 
Wiat, I tell thee it is mine, smiling upon him withal. 
Sir Thomas, at the length, casting his eye upon the 
king's finger, perceived that the king meant the lady 
whose ring that was, which he well knew, and paus- 
ing a little, and finding the king bent to pleasure, 
after the words repeated again by the king, the 
knight replied. And if it may like your majesty to 

ANNE fiOLBYN. 187 

giye me leave tb measure it, I hope it will be mine; 
$aid withal took fix>m his neck the lace whereat 
hung the tablet, and therewith stooped to measure 
the cast, which the king espying, knew, ai^d bad 
seen her wear, and therewithal spumed away the 
bowl, and said. It may be so, but then am I deceived ; 
and so broke up the game. This thing thus carried 
was not perceived for all this pf many, but of some 
few it was. Now the king, resorting to his chamber, 
showing some discontentment in his countenance, 
found means to break this matter to the lady, who, 
with good and evident proof how the knight came by 
the jewel, satisfied the king so effectually that this 
more confirmed the king's opinion of her truth than 
himself at the first could have expected. Shortly, 
upon the return of the cardinal, the matter of the 
dutchess^ cooling every day more and more, his cre- 
dit also waned till it was utterly eclipsed ; and that 
so busied the great personages that they marked the 
less the king*s bent, the rather for that some way it 
seined helpful to their working against the cardinal. 
The king also took here opportunity to proceed to 
discover his full and whole meaning unto the lady's 
father, to whom we may be sure the news was not a 
little jojrful. All this notwithstanding, her virtue 

♦ The King of France's Mster. 


was not so dased with the glory of so forcible at- 
tractives, bnt that she stood still upon her guards 
and was not, as we would suppose, so easily taken 
with all these appearances of happiness; whereof 
two things appeared to be the causes. One the lore 
she bare ever to the queen whom she served, that 
was also a personage of great virtue: the other her 
conceit that there was not that freedom of conjunc- 
tion with one that was her lord and king as with 
one more agreeable to her estate. These things 
being well perceived of, the queen shew she knew 
well to frame and work her advantage of, and there- 
fore the oftener had her at cards with her, the rather 
also that the king might have the less her company, 
and the lady the more excuse to be from him; also 
she esteem herself the kindlier used, and yet withal 
the more to give the king occasion to see the nail 
upon her finger. And in this entertainment of time 
they had a certain game that I cannot name then 
frequented, wherein dealing, the king and queen 
meeting they stopped, and the young lady's hap was 
much to stop at a king; which the queen noting, 
said to her playfellow, My Lady Anne, you have 
good hap to stop at a king, but you are not like 
others, you will have all or none. So often earnest 
matters are delivered under game. Yet had the 
king his times, and she in the end yielded to give 


her consent of marriage to him^ whom hardly ever 
any before was found able to keep their hold against. 
This was now so far to the pleasure of the king, 
that forthwith he with her and her father concluded 
to open the matter to the council^ all other things 
being ripe thereunto, and specially for that it was 
not possible to keep it any longer from the talk of 
men near his person, and the more, the queen being 
found to take such knowledge thereof. It is thought 
then the table was diversely carried to give opinion 
upon this matter; some of the nobility wishing ra- 
ther to have had so good hap lighted to some of 
their own houses; others that it had not been at all; 
some inclining to either of these as depending on 
them; but most liked better the king*s own choice, 
both for the hope of issue, and that the greatness of 
great men should not grow too great to sway with 
in managing of matters of state. But howsoever, 
it appeared manifestly that presently there were 
practices discovered on all sides under sundry arts, 
on the parts of Spain, from Rome and that faction, 
and from the queen herself, and specially some with 
the king, some with the lady herself, plotted to break 
or stay at the least till something might fall between 
the cup and the lip, that might break all this pur- 
pose with one of them, if it might have been. And 
verily one of these may seem for this present occa- 


man not oAmeet to be retoimted; i^ch was tUisi 
There was cohr^yed to her a book pretending old 
propheciiBs, wherein was rdpredented the figure of 
some personagesr^ ildth the letter H npon one, A 
npon another^ and K upon thi) thlrd> which an ex- 
poimder theienpon took npon him to inteipret hf 
the king and his wires^ and to her pronoondng 
certain destraction if she married the king. This 
book coming into her chanriber^ she opened, and find^- 
ing the contents, called to her maid of whom we 
have spoken before, ^o also bore her name: ^Come 
hither, Nan," said she, *^ see here a book of profAiecy t 
this he saith is the king, this the qneen, mooming, 
weeping and wringing her hands, and this is myself 
with my head off/' The mahl answered, ^If I 
thought it true, though he were an emperor, I would 
not myself marry him with that conditkin/' ^'Tes, 
Nan/' replied liie fatdy, ''I Chink the book a bauble; 
yet for the hope I hane that the reahn may be happy 
by my issue, I am resolved to have him wl^tsoever 
mi§^t becoiae of me." 
The Roinish fable-firamer^ if he may be believed. 

^ Sander* De Origine ae Progressu SchumaHs AngUeani, LibriS, 
This book was first printed at Cologne, in 1585, and passed throng^ 
several editions, the last in 1628. It was subsequently translated 
into French, and printed in 1673-4; which induced Burnet to write 
his History of llto Refoimation. In the aippendi^ to his liivt Toliiin« 


tlffirmeth aiiotber practice after this sort: ''That Sir 
Thomas Wiat coitaing to the council, for his bettinr 
security, cohfesied to have had dealings unth that 
lady, before he had any perceiving of the kihg's pur* 
pose of marriage; but not being credited by the kikig, 
that Wiat, as hot finding it well he was tiot befieyed, 
aflbined he wonld bring the king where he niight see 
him enjoy her. And that again being delivered by tite 
Dnke of Suffolk to the king, he yet believed it not'' 
But it is certain that the whole or greatest part of this 
is fiction; for the petsons, manner, and event of fliese 
tfaii^ have been utterly mistaken and misshapen. 
For I have heard by the report of one of right good 
and hdnourable adcount, and of much understanding 
in such things, who also hath the truth of his word in 
high respect, that it was Sir Francis Brian that con- 
fessed such a Uke thing to the king by another lady, 
with other success more likely, winch was that Ae 
king thereupon pardokied him iiideed, but rejected and 
gave over the lady ever after to hinu Whether the 

he gives a partfcular account of Sanders' book, and refutes the 
calumnies and falsehoods contained in it. This called forth a reply 
from the catholic party, under the title of Histoire du Divorce de 
Shwry YIIL ptar Joachim Le Grand. Paris, 1688, S vols. 12mo. 
A work not without interest on account of the documents printed 
in the third volume, some of which I have found useful as illus- 
trations of the present work. 


duke might, upon the sight of that which happened 
at bowls, take any occasion with the king to dis- 
suade the marriage, supposing the knight could not 
or woxdd not otherwise have cleared himself and the 
lady, but by confessing and craving pardon for it as 
done before he had knowledge of the king*s intention, 
I cannot say; and by guess I will not affirm it in 
any case of any, much less of so worthy and noble a 
personage. Only this I say, that if he did so, I be- 
liieve verily that he was greatly deceived therein of 
his expectation; as finding that by good proof the 
knight could clear himself and her of that matter, 
even to the full assuring and ascertaining of the 
king of the manner of his coming by the jewel with- 
out her dishonour, and that so the duke, if he did so, 
mig^t come to find himself had gone too far, as to 
have purchased to himself thereby mislike both of 
the king and queen, whereupon he might turn his 
heavy displeasure to the knight ever after. I know 
of a certainty, that the knight had a most high 
opinion of that princely lady's noble virtues as by 
trial, and chiefly in the matter of the bowls; in that 
she took not or interpreted ill of his deed (as her- 
self, being in her own conscience clear), but as he 
meant it to the king's disport before knowledge of 
the marriage. This is true also, that Sir Thomas 
Wiat was twice sifted and lifted at, and that noble- 


man both times his most heavy adversary^ bj^ I 
Uaye to show under the knight's own hand in his 
answer to his last indictment. Neither could I ever 
learn what might be the cause of his so perpetual 
grudge, save only that it appeareth to be as old as 
this. Some man might perhaps be led to think that 
the duke might have a special end to draw him to 
enter and venture so far to the breaking off the 
match. And it is true that he was then married 
with the king's second sister, when the king had 
then remaining but one only daughter, and then she 
also questioned whether legitimate: That then also 
was procured a statute to cut off foreign titles; and 
it is true also, that after the ambition of some to 
occasion hereby to thrust the duke's issue, even 
before the proper and laMrful issue of the king, into 
the regal seat. All this notwithstanding, I will 
never be induced to give that opinion of that noble- 
man, but rather I would think, if he did any such 
thing, in any sort giving colour to this fancy of the 
Roman legender, he did it upon zeal that in his 
conceit it was true, and that he thought the knight 
would so far confess it as done before talk of the 
king's marriage, when he saw he had passed so far 
in the measuring of the cast. And though the whole 
fiction have scarcely so much as shadow of colour of 
any appearance, yet for that part where he deviseth 

VOL. II. o 



that Sir Thomas should before the Gotncfl apeacb 
himself and that lady, or after not being creditedy 
offer to make the king see him to have to, do with 
her, this showing itself sufficiently falsified to any 
wise and understanding reader, especially consider- 
ing it particularly with the circumstances, it is so 
far from all likelihood, as all presumptions are flat 
against it, as in a word or two shall now be showed. 
For that princely lady, she living in court where 
were so many brave gaUants at that time unmarried, 
she was not like to cast her eye upon one that had 
been then married ten years. And her parents, then 
in good and honourable place, resident in court, and 
themselves of no mean condition, they would keep, no 
doubt, a watchfdl eye over her to see she should not 
roam to the hinderance of her own prefevme|it» a course 
so foul with one where was no colour of marriage. The 
King's eye also was a guard upon her, as also those 
that pleased the king in recounting the adventures 
of love happening in court made it hard, specialty 
for the shortness of time after her placing there, and 
the king's own love. Also she that hcAd out against 
such a king where was hope of marriage, what was 
like she should do to the knight, where his own lady 
and her friends were still to attend upon thdr doings, 
whose testimonies of the honourable cania|[e of that 
lady are therefore here most strong for her? And 


fbr the kni^ht^ if he had enjoyed her^ was he so far 
desperately uncked and a monster in love, that he 
would openly/ purposely, and to his own disgrace, 
vaunt the spoil of a maid of so good friends and like* 
lihoods of advancements, without all regard of God 
or man? especially when she had stood so well 
npon the assurance of her own innocence for the 
matter of the jewel without turning him to any dis- 
pleasure thereby. Those that knew him best, knew 
him far from that dishonest disposition chiefly in this 
kind, and for so gross a villany. And if he had 
been of that mind, yet was he known not of so little 
wit or understanding, upon a point that was not very 
likely to be known, to discover his own and her evil; 
where was a great deal more likelihood that, the 
king believing her rather than him, he was to incur 
a more certain and greater mischief that might in all 
presumption, fall by the heavy displeasure of them 
both upon himself ever after. And if we could ima<- 
gine hun'both so wretchedly dishonest, and so very 
a sot (neither of which could be found cf him), hid 
father then counsellor to the king, for his wisdom, 
years, and experience, more grave, would not have 
suffered him yet to quit himself so fondly and to be 
so mad; especially as when the king had showed 
net to believe it, then to run more obstinately to 
offer when the king had mad^ h^ privy hereunto^ 

- o2 


to bring her that the king should see her also so mad 
as to yield to him after Ae had given consent of 
marriage to the king. Who would not beliere them 
a](w> mad, that would believe so mad a carriage of 
such a business amongst grave and wise men, how- 
soever the railing Romanist be so mad to write it 
so as he would seem mad with reason? For the 
king also, besides that he had more occasion and 
means than any other to note and observe her doings, 
yet much more (as the nature of generous spirits 
carries them) he w;as watchful upon the knight, as 
in other things so chiefly in this, not to be outrun at 
this garland of love; so as by himself and by the 
eyes of others, there was not any. trip but would 
have been spied, no likelihood but would have car* 
ried suspicion with it; how much more would the. 
knight's confession have simk into his head? Would 
he, being so wise a prince, have forgotten that the. 
soberness of his choice would serve much for satisfy-* 
ing the world, touching his divorce? Had he not 
time, bad he not leisure to learn, to inquire and sift 
out all things ? His care used in gathering opinions 
of universities, and in informing princes of the whole 
matter, with all circumstances in the managing this 
cause, by the space of some years, show he was not 
so passionate a lov€¥;^t>ut also withal a wise and 
considerate prince. But it is said the king believed 


it not! Tet what? when the knight (as) this tale 
saith) offered to make the king see it^ and that 
avowed to the council! Could such a prince as he 
swallow this) Doubtless none that hath his wits 
will think so, none that knew the complexion of the 
king could induce himself to suppose a thing so 
incredible. The case of Sir Francis Brian's^ opening 
of his love had another effect, and shows plainly that 
the king was of another metal, since he cast off that 
Lady loved right dearly (as hath been said) without 
farther matter. And doubtless in this case/ he be- 
lieving the matter wotild have thrown off this lady 
also, the marriage not yet consummate, and he having 

* Sir Francis Brian was one of the most accomplished courtiers 
of his times : a man of great probity and a poet. Wyatt addresses 
his third satire to him, and pays a high compliment in it to his 
Tirtue and integrity. He was, like Wyatt, firmly attached to the 
Protestant cause : on this account he seems to have drawn on him- 
self the hatred of the Roman Catholic party. Sanders, in his ma- 
leyolent account of the Reformation in England, relates the follow- 
ing absurd and wicked story of him. — Cum autem Henrici Regis 
domus ex perditissimo hominum constaret, cujusmodi erant alea- 
tores, adulteri, lenones, assentatores, perjuri, blasphemi, rapaces, 
atque ade6 haeretici, inter hos insignis quidem nepos extitit, Fran- 
ciscus Brianus, Eques Auratus, ex gente et stirpe Bolenorum. Ab 
iUo rex quodam tempore qusesiyit, quale peccatum videretur ma- 
trem primum, deinde filium cogiioscere. — Cui Brianus, " Omnino," 
inquit, ^'tale O rex quale gallinain primiim, deinde pullum ejus 
gallinaceum comedere.'^ Quod verbum cum rex magno risu acce- 
pisset, ad Brianum dixisse fertur. ** Nae I tu merito mens est 
Infemi Yicarius.'^ Brianus enim jam prius ob impietatem notis- 


in his ovm. realm itnd abroad beauties enoiigii' to 
content him^ and means enough ateo to push on some 
other. But it is devisM the king believed it not Not 
believing; it, think -we the knight could have escaped 
punishment of a slanderer^ though he mi^t by con- 
fessing^ avoid the punishment of a mal^Eu^tor (as 
they say) after? Tins no outrageous madman would 
believe. If the king would or could have passed it 
over^ the lady in honour could not, nor might But 
suppose also that supposal beyond all suppose. 
Though they punished it not, would they, think ye, 
hare put him in credit and advancement itffcer? 
Would they have had him chief eweier even the yery 

simam yocabatur, *^ Infemi Yacarius.^' Post tintem et " Regius 
Infemi Yicariufl/' Rex igitur cum et matrem piius, et postea 
filiam M ariam Bolenam pro concubina tenuisset, demum at alteram 
quoque filiam, Annam Bolenam, animum adjicere coepit. De 
SchUmute Anglicano. p, 24. 

This disgusting calumny is repeated by the followers of Sanders, 
and among others by Dayanzati, in his ScAuma d'lnghilterra p. 22, 
Ed. 1727. And yet that history is presented by the Curators of 
the Studio at Padua, to the youth educated there as *^ una stimabi- 
lissima Storia ; descritta con quel vivi e forti colori che soli vagliaoo 
a far comprendere Fatrocita del successo dello Schisma d'lqghil- 
terra.'' How (says Dr. Nott, from whom this note is taken) can 
the bonds of charity be ever brought to unite the m^nbers of the 
Roman Catholic communion with those of the reformed church, so 
long as their youth shall be thus early taught to consider our Re^ 
formation as the portenluus uHspriug of whatever was most odioiu 
in human profligacy, and most fearful in blaeq^ihemy and ii^religion V* 
Memoirs of Sir Thomas Wyatt, p. 84. 


diay of her coronatBon? Would they hav^ ieniployed 
him ambasmulor in that matter oi the marriage? 
YeHj I say more! would the king also have rewarded 
him with a good portion of lands soon upon ^bia? 
Bat all these w^e so as we have alleged thnn^ 
The Chfimieles hare his service on that day of 
<K>rohation. His embassages were twice about this 
matter known li^t well: I have seen the patents 
of the grant myself^. And these things, the last 
espedally, I the rather all^e, for that the knight 
useth them himself as testimonies of the king's good 
opinion of him, in his defence before mentioned, 
W^h also by the king and his council in those 
times was liked and allowed of as his just purgation^ 
by which they acquitted him. Finally, that his 
drfenoe then may and is to be esteemed his defence 
now also in iHm case not to be contemned, and may 
thus be considered. This reporteth that be was 
twice winnowed. The matters were the same both 
times, the accusations so frivolous, the inducements 
and proo£B so idle, that they j^ove nothing more 
than that there lacked no wills in bis adversary to do 
him hurt, than that they had any least cdour of matter 
to work it Nothing so impertinent, nothing so un- 


7 32 Henry VJII. A. D. 1640, 


likely that they all^'not Yea and his most trusty 
and best services they had the chief matteis of their 
accnsation^ nothing was so fond that they riiq[>ed 
not up to his discredit, at the least if it mi^t have 
been. Tet in all this was no w<Hrd or significatimi 
of any such matter. Thongh it had not been brought 
as the ground of his accusation, would it not have 
been drawn forth to aggravate or induce the matter 1 
Undoubtedly it would, either in the queen's life in 
his first trouble, and it would have done well to 
revenge if he had done her this wrong, or after to 
her overthrow, or else in his second trouble against 
him. But no one word is*or was in it touching any 
such matters. 

After so many cross billets of cunning polities, 
surmounted by the guiding providence of God, after 
so many trials of her truth, passed through by her 
wise and virtuous governance, the king having every 
way made so thorough proof how deep root honour 
had taken in her bosom, and having found it not 
to be shaken even by him, this royal and famous 
prince Henry the Eighth, resolving her matchless 
perfections meet alone to be joined with his, now 
at the length concluded forthwith to knit up this 
marriage, although for certain causes the same was 
thought more convenient to be performed some- 
what privately and secretly. On the twenty-fifth of 


January^ therefore, the ceremony was consummate. 
Hie king also, shortly after having himself more 
ascertained, and by more inward trial more assured 
of her spousal truth, would yet far&er testify >t)iat 
his opinion of her, by giving her that highest hbnour 
he could give her virtues, in having her solemnly and 
royally crowned. And thus we see they lived and 
loved, tokens of increasing love perpetually increas- 
ing between them. Her mind brought him forth the 
rich treasures of love of piety, love of truth, love of 
learning. Her body yielded him the fruits of mar- 
riage, inestimable pledges of her faith and loyal love. 
And touching the former of these, it is here first not 
to be forgotten, that of her time (that is during the 
three years that she was queen) it is found by good 
observation, that no one suffered for religion, which 
is the more worthy to be noted for that it could not 
so be said of any time of the queens after married to 
the king. And amongst other proofs of her love to 
religion to be found in others, this here of me is to 
be added. That shortly after her marriage, divers 
learned and christianly disposed persons resorting 
to her, presented her with sundry books of those 
controversies that then began to be questioned touch- 
ing religion, and speciaf^^ q^ the authority of the 

M Jiidua ~~~ 

« A.D. ld32-3. 


pope and his dergj^ and of their doings agAinst 
kings and states. And amongst other^ thete hap» 
pened^ one of these, which, as her manner was, 
she haTing read, she had also noted with her nsdl 
as of matter worthy the king's knowledge ^^ Hie 
book lying in her window, her maid (of whom baA 

* Tyndal's Obedience of a Christian Man; 

i^ Tfaia cnrions and interesting oecnrrence, wfakh probably bad 
conaideTable efieot in furthering the progress of tlM Re&rmatiiQii, 
is told with more circumstance by Strype^ from the manuscripts of 
Fox. It is so entirely corroborated by what is here said, that I 
think it isciuiibeiit upon Die to place it in jiutiqiodliDn widi Wya^ 

'^ Upon the Lady Anne waited a yoimg ^dr gentlewoman, named 
Mrs. GaJnsford; and in her service was alio retained Mr. George 
Zouch. This gentleman, of a comely sweet person, a Zouch in-> 
deed, was a suitor in the way of marriage to the said young lady : and 
among other love tricks, once he plucked from her a book in En- 
glish, called Tyndall's Obedience, whi<^ tlte Lady Anne had l€s^ 
her to read. About which time the Cardinal had given command- 
ment to the prelates, and especially to Br. Sampson, dean of the 
kmg^s chapel, that they should have a vi^lant eye over all peo^e 
for such books, that they came not abroad; that so as muich a$ 
might be, they might not come to the king's reading. But this 
which he most feared fell out npon this occasion. For Mr. Zouch 
(I use the words of the MS.) was so ravished with tiie spirit of 
God speaking now as well in the heart of the reader, as first it did 
in the heart of the maker of the book, that he was never well but 
when he was reading of Ibat book. Mra. Gaioslford wept becaiwe 
she could not get the book from her wooer, and he was as ready to 
weep to deliver it. But see thfe providence of God: — ^Mr. Zouch 
standing in the chapel beibre Dr. Sampson, ever reading upon this 


been spoken) took it up, f^ as she wad r^adingr it, 
came to speak witb her one^^ then suitor to her, that 
after married her; and as they talked he took tike 
book of her, and she withal, called to attend (m the 
queen, forgot it in his hands, and she not retumii^ 
in some long space, he walked forth with it in his 
hand, thinking it had been hers. There encountered 

book; and tiie dean never haying hii eye off the book, in the gen* 
tleman's hand, called him to him, and then snatched the book out 
of his hand, asked his name, and whose man he was. And the 
book he delivered to tiie caidinal. In the meantime, the Lady 
Anne asketh her woman for the book. She on her knees told all 
the circumstances. The Lady Anne showed herself not sorry nor 
angry with either of ihe two. But, said she, * Wefl, it shall be 
the deareet book that ever the dean or cardinal took away.' The 
noblewoman goes to the king, and upon her knees she desireth the 
king's help for her book. Upon the king's token the book was 
restored. And now bringing the book to him, she besought his 
grace most tenderly to^'read it. The king did so, and delighted in 
the book. " For (saith he) this book is for me and ajl kings to 
read.'' And in a little time, by the help of this virtuous lady, 
by the means a&resaid, had his eyes opened to the tmth, to 
advance God's religion and glory, to abhor the pope's doctrine, his 
lies, his pomp, and pride, to deliver his subjects out of the Egyptian 
daa^ness, the Babylonian bonds that the pope had brought his sub- 
jects under. And so contemning the threats of all the world, the 
power of princes, rebellions of his subjects at home, and the raging 
ci so many and mighty potentates abroad ; set forward a refoma- 
tion in religion, beginning with the triple crowned head at first, and 
so came down to the members,^if)^s, abbots, priors, and such 
like." — Strype's Eeclesuuticd ^emffriah, vol. i. p. 112. 

" Mr. George Zouch. 


jiiin soon after a gentleman of the cardinal's of hi^ 
acquaintance^ and after salutations^ perceiving the 
book, requested to see it, and finding what it was, 
partly by the title, partly by some what he read in 
it, he borrowed it and showed it to the cardinals 
Hereupon the suitor was sent for to the cardinal 
and examined of the book, and how he came by it, 
and had like to have come in trouble about it, but 
that it being found to have pertained to one of the 
queen's chamber, the cardinal thought better to defer 
the matter till he had broken it to the king first, 
in which meantime the suitor delivered the lady 
what had fallen out, and she also to the queen, 
who, for her wisdom knowing more what might grow 
thereupon, without delay went and imparted the 
matter to the king, and showed him of the points 
that she had noted with her finger. And she was 
but newly come from the king, but the cardinal 
came in with the book in his hands to make com 
plaint of certain points in it that he knew the king 
would not like of, and withal to take occasion with 
him against those that countenanced such books 
in general, and specially women, and as might be 
thought with mind to go farther against the queen 
more directly if he had perceived the king agreeable 
to his meaning. But the king that somewhat afore 
distasted the cardinal, as we have showed, finding 


the notes the queen had made^ all tnmed the more 
to hasten his ruin, which was also furthered on all 

On the other part, of her body she bare him a 
daughter on the seventh ^^ of September, to the great 
joy then of all his people, both for that the king 
had now issue legitimate of his own body, and for 
the hope of more after. The king also he expressed 
his joy for that fruit sprung of himself, and his yet 
more confirmed lore towards her, caused her child 
openly and publickly to be proclaimed Peingess 
Elizabeth at the solemnity of her baptising, pre* 
ferrlng his younger daughter legitimate before the 
elder in unlawful wedlock. And after this again, 
at the prorogation of the parliament, the thirtieth of 
March^^ he had every lord, knight, and burgess sworn 
to an act of succession, and their names subscribed 
to a schedule fixed to the same statute, where 
it was enacted, that his daughter princess Elizabeth, 
he having none other heir male, should succeed 
him to the crown. And after were commissioners 

'^ So it is in the Calendars prefixed to the Book of Common 
Prayer in Queen Elizabeth's reign. Lord Herbert says it was the 
sixth, Sanders the eighth, and Archbishop Cranmer the thirteenth 
or fourteenth. ^' 

" A.D. 1634. 


sent to all parts of the rratfia to take tiie like oatfr 
of all men and women in tbe land. Neither also 
were her virtues only enclosed in her own breast or 
shut up in her own person. She had iHt>cttred to 
her chaplains ^S men of great leaminf and Gt ne 
less honest conversing^ whom she with hers heard 
much, and privately she heard them wilIiI^^lJ and 
gladly to admonish her, and them herself exhorted 
and enconraged so to do. Also at the first, she 
had in conrt drawn about her, to be attending on 
her, ladies^^ of great hononr, and yet of greater choice 
for reputation of virtue, undoubted witnesses of her 
spousal integrity, whom she trained upon with all 

'^ Shaxton and Latimer. 

"5 To every one of these she gave a little book of devotions, 
neatly written on vellum, and bound in covers of soKd gold enam- 
elled, with a ring to each cover to lutngit at their girdles for their 
constant use and meditation. 

One of these little volumes, traditionally asld to have been given 
by the queen when on the scaffold lo her attendant, one of the 
Wyatt ^onily, and preserved by them through several generations, 
was described by Yertue as being seen by him in the possession of 
Mr. George Wyatt of Charterhouse Square, in 1721. Vide Wal- 
pole*s MisceUaneoui AntiquiiieSy printed at Strawberry Hill, 1772, 
No. II. p. 13. It was a diminutive volume, consisting of one 
hundred and four leaves of vellum, one and seven-eighths of an 
inch long by one and five-eights of an inch broad; containing a 
jmetrical version of parts of thirteen Psalms: and bound in pure 
gold richly chased, with a ring to append it to the neck-chain or 
girdle. It was in Mr. Triphook's possession in the year 1817. 

ANJfB-BOLIYV. ' 207 

eommendatioiis of well ordered g:oveniment/tboug;fa 
yet above all by her own example she shined above 
tiiem all, as a torch that all might take light of, bein^ 
itself still more bright Those that hare seen at 
HmipUni Court the rich and eitquisite works by herw 
self, for the greater part wrought by her own hluid 
and needle, and also o^ her ladies, esteem them the 
most precious fomiture that are to be accounted 
amongst the most sumptuous that any prince may 
be possessed of. And yet far more rich and precious 
were those works in the sight of God which she 
caused her maids and those about her daily to work 
m shirts and smocks for the poor. But not staying^ 
here her eye of charity^ her hand of bounty passed 
through the whole land; each place felt that hea^ 
Tenly flame burmng in her; all times will remember 
it, no place leaving for vain flames, no times for idle 
thoughts. Her ordinary amounted to fifteen hun^ 
dred pounds at the least, yearly, to be bestowed on 
Ihe poor. Her provisions of stock for the poor in 
sundry needy parishes were very great. Out of her 
privy purse went not a little to like purposes. To 
Scholars in eihibitloD very much: so as in three 
quarters of a year her alms was summed to four- 
teen or fifteen thousand pounds. 

She waxing great again and not so fit for dal- 
liance, the time was taken to steal the king's 


affection firom hear, when most of all she was to haTe^ 
been cherished. And he once showing to bend from; 
her, many that least onght shrank £com her also, and 
some lent on the other side; snch are. the iBexible^ 
natnres of those in courts of princes for the most 
part Unkindness greiiir, and she was brought afied 
before her time with much peril of her life, and of a 
inale child dead bom, to her greater and most extreme 
grief. Being thus a ^oman full of sorrow, it was> 
reported that the king came to her, aitd bewailing; 
and complaining unto her the loss of his boy, some 
words were heard break out of the inward feeling, 
of her heart's dolours, laying the fault up<m unkind* 
ness, which the king more than was cause (her case 
at this time considered) took more hardly than other-, 
wise he would if he had not been somewhat too 
much overcome' with grief, or not so much alienate.^ 
Wise men in those days judged that her virtues was 
here her default, and that if her too much love could, 
as well as. the other queen, have borne with his 
defect of love^ she might have fallen into less danger,, 
and in the end have tied him the more ever after to 
her when he had. seen his error, and that. she might, 
the rather have done respecting the general liberty 
and custom of falling then that way* Certainly,, 
froih henceforth the harm still more increased, and 
he was then heard to say to her: he. would have 


lio more boys by her. Having thus so many, so 
^te^t factions at home and abroad set loose by the 
distomed favour of the king, and so few to show 
themselves for her, what could be? what was other- 
like but that all these guests lightuig on her at once 
should prevail to' overthrow her, and with her those 
that stood under her fall? She and her friends 
therefore were suddenly sent to the Tower; and this 
gracious queen coming unto the entry of the gate, 
she falling down upon her knees made that place 
a reverend temple to olBPer up her devout prayers', 
and as a bale there her soul beaten d<)wn with aiBicr 
tions to the earth, with her faithful prayeis bounds 
up to heayen. '*0 Lord," said she, "help me, as 
I am guiltless of tlus wh^eof I am accAsed." The 
time approached for the hearing of her cause. Tlite 
place of her trial in the Tower may somewhat dis« 
cover how the matter was liked to be handled. Nor 
there was it appointed the better to conceal the 
heinousn^ss of the accusation, though that might be 
the pretence. For that was published in parliament 
that it might from thence spread abroad over all. 
Iler very accusations speak and even plead for her; 
«dl of them, so far as I can find, carrying in them-^ 
selves op^i proof to all men's consciences *of mere 
matter of quarrel, and indeied of a very preparation 
to some hoped alteration; The most and chief of 

VOL. II. p 


them showing to hare come firom Rome, that popish 
forge of cmmiBg and treacherf, as Petrarch long 
since termed it. 

Nido di tradimenti in cut si euova 
Qmnio nudper h m&mdo keggi si sptutdi. 

Nest of treafODS in wliich is hateh'd and bred 
What ill this day the world doth oversjj^ead. 

For that most odions of them, something is to be 
esteemed by the apparent wrongs of the other evil 
handling of matters. But for this thing itself, partly 
it is incredible, partly by the circomstances impossi- 
ble. Incvedible, that she that had it her word as 
it were, the spirit of her mind, as halh been said, 
that she was Casar's all, not to be touched of others, 
should be held with the foul desire of her brother. 
Again, she having so goodly a. prince to~ please her, 
who also had showed himself able to content more 
than oiie, that she should yet be carried to a thing 
so much abhorring even womanly years and to natHro 
itself, innch more to so christian a queen. Impos^ 
sible, for the necessary and no small attendance of 
ladi^ ever about her, whereof sdme, as after ap^ 
peared, even a^red unto her place and right in the 
king's love; yea, by manifest prevention before their 
time. And indeed, hereof, it was her very accusers 
found it impossible to have colour to charge her 
with any other than her brother, which also made 


it no less impossible even for him alike as odier* 
Impossible^ I say, because neither she could remove 
so great ladies^ by office appointed to attend upon 
her continually, ftom being witnesses to h^ doings^ 
neither for the danger she saw she stood in, andr 
the occasions daily sought, would she for her own 
wisdom, and also by the advertisements of her kin« 
dred and followers, whereof she had many of most 
great understanding, experience, and faith, about 
hei^ Besides> she tDouId not but be made more 
wary and wakeful, if for none other cause, yet 
even to take away all colour from her enemies> 
whose eyes were everywhere upon her to pick mat* 
ter, and their malicious hearts bent to make some 
where tiiey found none; as plainly enough was to 
be seen when they were driven to those straits ta 
take occasion at her brother^s more private being 
with her; the more grudged at perhaps> for that it 
might be supposed bis conference with her might 
be for the breaking off the king^s new lov^ Foir 
the evidence^ as I never could hejar of any, so small 
t believe it was. But tihts I say, well was it said 
of a noble judge of late, &at '^half a proof where 
nature leadeth was to be esteemed a whole proof/^ 
On the contrary, in this case he would have sslid, 
whiole and very absolute proofs to have been needful 
in such a case against nature. And I may say, 



by tbeir leaves^ it seems themselves ttey doubted 
their proofs would* prove their reproofs, when they 
durst hot bring them to the proof of the light in- 
open place. For this principsLl matter between tfaei 
queen and her brother, there was brought forth; 
indeed, Ivitness, his wicked wife accuser of her own 
husband, even to the seeking of his blood, wbick 
I. believe is hdxdly to be showed of any honest 
woman ever done. But of her, the judgment that 
fell out upon her, and the just punishment by law 
after of her naughtiness, show that' what she did 
was more to be rid of him than of true ground 
against him. And that it seemeth those noblemen 
that went upon the queen's life found in her trial; 
when it may appear plainly by that defence of the 
knight that oft hath been here mentioned, that the 
young nobleman the Lord Rochford, by the common 
opinion of n^en of best understanding in those days; 
was counted and then openly spoken, condemned 
only upon some point of a statute of words then 
in force. And this and sundry other reasons have 
made me think often Ihat upon. some elaxise of the 
same . law they grounded their colour also against 
her, and that for other matters she had deared 
berself well enough. It seemeth some great ones 
then had their hands in drawing in that law to 
entangle ^ or bridle one another, and that some of 

ANNE BOLfiYN. 213^ 

tbem were taken in the same net^ ^ good inen 
flien thought worthily. Surely my Lord CromweU 
and this young lord were taken in those entangle- 
DAents^ and the knight himself^ of whom is spoken^ 
had hardly scaped it^ as may appear by his defence^ 
if he had not by the well deUvering of the goodness 
of his cause broken through it And this may well 
serve to admonish men to be well awi^re how far 
they admit of laws that shall to^uch life upon construe-^ 
tion of words; or^ at the least, admitting them, how 
far they leave to lawyers to interpret of them, and 
especially that thereby they give not excuse to juries 
to condemn the innocent when sway of time should 
tfunast matters upon them. Thus was she put upon- 
her trial by men of great honour; it had been good 
also if some of them had not been to be suspected of 
too much power and no less malice. The evidence 
were heard indeed, but clos^a enough, as enclosed 
in strong walls. Yet, to show the truth cannot by 
any force be altogether kept in hold, some belike 
of those honourable personages there, more perhaps 
for countenance of others'* evil than for means by 
their own authority to do. good (which also perad^ 
venture would not have been without their own 
certain perils), did not yet forbear to. deliver out 
voices that . caused every where to be muttered 
abroad, that that spotless queen in her defence had. 


cleared hearseU mth a most mae ajatd noUe speeclL 
Notwith^andiiig gach a trial, such a judgtaent foond 
her guilty, and gave seBtence of death upon hi^r at 
hcMDie, whom others a^broad, living to fed her Io8i> 
found guiltless. 

The wofid sentence wsts jgiven; burning or head- 
ing at the king's pleasure, leaving open some small 
place tof fiij for the kind of di»ith, vMxAl the king's 
c<mscience (no doubt) moved him to take in ap- 
pointii^ the more honourable deatit. Within those 
walls thia execution was to be done. What needed 
that? The love known indeed to het by the peqple 
tf as not to be feared of the kii^, her love being 
such to him as to her last breath she stood to acquit 
and d^eskd him by her words at hec deatibt, carrying a 
Very true inn^e of her fonaet love aiid life. *^ Chris^ 
tian people!** said she, ^'I am cone to die, and ao* 
Cording to law, and by law I aih judged to death, 
and therefore I will speak nothing against it. Z 
am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak any 
thing of that whereof Z am accused and condenined 
to die. But I pray God save flie king, and send 
him long to reign over yon, for a gentler and more 
merciful prince was there never, and to me he was 
ever a good, a gentle, and soveteign lo^ If any 
person will meddle of my cause, I require him to 
judge the best And dms I take my leave of the 

ANNB fiOL£YN. 215 

world and of yon^ and I heartily desire you all to 
pray for me. O Lord, have mercy on me! To 
God I commend my soul."' And so she kneeling 
down said, *'To Christ I commend my soul. Jesu, 
receive my soul !" The bloody blow came down from 
his trembling hand that gave it, when those about 
her could not but seem to themselves to have re- 
ceived it upon their own necks, she not so much as 
shrieking at it. Grod provided for her corpse sacred 
borial, even in place as it w^e consecrate to inno- 


TkefoUawing letterif rekH»g to ike arrest and hekamomr in prison of 
Q^een Anne Boleyn^ are in thenuehee so inieresting that no apo-* 
fogy seems necessary for placing them in jnxtmposiHon with the 
foregoing interesting memoir, TTiey have been recently given to 
the public in Mr. ElU^s accurate and interesting collection of 
Historical Letters; thai gentleman has prrferred printing them 
as mutilated fragments, to supplying the lacanae by such means as 
I have ventured to adapt, Strype saw these letters previous to 
the edUsmUousftre in 1731, which injured so many valuahle pe^^s 
in the Cottonian Collection^ and he has given large extraetsfrom 
them of the most interesting passages : from this sourceytherrfore, 
IhavefUed up such chasms as I could, that the reader may not 
he tantalized by the erngma-Uhs appearance of a few disjointed 
words* The passages suppUed have been carefully distinguished 
by printing them in Italics between brachetSy asuL as Strype was a 
suffieienJtly accurate Antiquary, and faithful in his extracts, it is 
presumed that the reader may rely ^ipon the authenticity of the 
passages thus supplied. 

The reader is already acquainted with the writer, Sir WiUiam 
Kingston, the Lieutenant or Constable of the Tower, from the 
figure he makes in the Life ef Wolsey, Seep* 302 et seq. 



Sir William Kingston to Secretary Cromwell, upon 
Queen Anne's committal to the Tower. 

(MS. COTTON. OTHO C. X. fol. 226.) 

Thys ys to adyertyse you apon my Lord of Norfolk 
and the kyngs counsell depart[tfi^e] from the Towre I 
went before the quene in to hyr lodgyng, & [then she^ 
sayd nnto me, M. Kyngston, shall I go in to a dangynl 
Now, madam, y[ou] shall go into your logyng that 
you lay. in. at your coronacion. It ys to gu[de] for 
me, she sayd, Jesu, have mercy on me; and kneled 
downe wepyng a Igreat'] pace, and in the same sorow 
fell in to agret lawyng, and she hathe done [so] mony 
tymes syns. And then she desjnred me to move the 
iLjngs hynes that she [fnyght] have the sacarment in 
the closet by hyr chambr, that she my[^ght priay] for 
mercy, for I am as clere from the company of man, 
as for s[y;i, sayd Me as /] am clere from you, and am 
the kjmgs trew wedded wyf ; and then £db[e sayd] 
M. Kyngston, do you know wher for I am here, and 
I sayd. Nay, and then [she sayd] when saw you tiie 
kyng? and I sayd, I saw hym not syns I saw [him in] 
the Tylte yerde, and then M. K. I pray you to tell me 


wher my [Lord Rochyord ys? and I told hyr I saw 
hym afore dyner in the cort O [where ys] my swet 
brod'er? I sayd I left hym at York place^ and so I 
dyd. I [hear say, say^d she, that I shuld be accused 
with iij men; and I can say [no more but] nay, with- 
yowt I shidd oppen my body ; and ther with opynd [her 
gown sayengf O JVbr]res, hast thow accused me, thow 
ar in the Towre with me, & [thou and I shaT^ dy to 
gether: and, Marke, thou art h^re to. O my mother, 
[thmwUt dy] for sDrow> axid tneche lamented my lady 
of Worcef", for by c^wse her child] dyd not store in 
hyr body, and my wyf sayd what sdiuld [be the cawse, 
^] sayd for the sorow j^t toke for me: and then 
she sayd M. Ti^ingiton, shall I djf] with yowt jusfj & 
I sayd, the porest sugett the kyng [heah hadju^^ 
ar^\ ther with she lawed. All thys sayings was yes- 
t^Tnylght] . . ,. . . . . & thys moryng dyd 
talke with mestrys CosyS [and said that Nor]res dyd 
Cfay on Sunday la^t unto the queues aiQn[€r, that he 
wold sw]eT^ for the queue that shi& was a gud woman. 
[And then sayd MrsJ] Cosyn, Madam, why shuld ther 
be hony seche matc»rs [spoken of? Mary,] sayd ste, I 
bad hym do so, for I, asked hym why he [went nat 
thorough wUh] hys m&ryage? and he made ansTsr >e 
wold tary [a time. Then said ske^ you] loke for ded 

*■ Co0y: Hm woman's name was Coosyns. 


Biens sbo^rjn ; for yf owth cam[e to the kh^ but good,} 
you wolA loke to have m^; and he nvfd, yf he {should 
have my sodie tioi^t,] he woU hjs hed war of; and 
then she aayd, [she could undo Urn if she ^old,] aJMt 
Hier with tiiay fell yowt* Bot {she said^ she more feared 


Weston; for] on Wysson Monday last [Weston. told 
Ae]r that Nores earn more xi[nto her chawmbrefor her 
then for Jf [age*, and further 

Wher I was conunaunded to charge the gentlewemen 
that y gyf thaye atende apon the queue, that ys to 
say, thay shuld have now commynycaseon with hyr, 
in lese^ my wyf ware present, and so I dyd hit, not- 
withstaundyng it canot be; for my lady Bolen and 
mestrys Cosyn lyes on the queues palet, and I and 
my wyf at the dore with yowt, so it^ thay most 
nodes talke at* be without; bot I have every tbyng 
tdld me by mestrys Cosyn that she thynks met for 
mee to knowe, and totber ij gentlewemen lyes with 
yowt me, and as I may knowe [Me] kings plesur in 
the premyss^ I shall folow. From the Towre this 
mo . . ^ . . 

S' syns the makyng of thys letter the queue spake 
of Wesi[on^ that she] had spoke to hym by cause he 

^ Probably the name of one of her attendants. 

3 ttidess. ^ that. ^ Sir Francia Weston, 


dyd love hyr kyiiswoma[ii Mrs. Skdton and that j[lie 
sayd he loved not hys wyf; and he made anser tor 
hyr [again that he\ loved won in hyr howse bettr then 
them botbe[; she asked him who is that? to which he 
answered] that it ys your self; and then ghe defyed 



Sir William Kyngston to Secretary Cromwell, on Queen 
Annes behaviour in Prison. 

[MS. COTTON. OTHO C. X* fol. 222.] 

Aftbr your departyng yesterday, Greneway ^ntil- 
man ysshar cam to me^ & . . • M. Caro and 
Mast' Bryan commanded hym in the kyngs: name to 
my [Lord of] Botchfort from my lady hys wyf, and 
the message was now more . . • , . se how 
he dyd; and also she wold humly sut unto the 
kyngs hy[nes] .... for hjnr husband; and so he 
gaf hyr thanks, and desyred me to know [at what] 
tyme he shuld cum affore the kyngs counsell, for I 
thynk I s[hall not] cum forthe tyll I cum to my 
jogement, wepyng very ......... I de- 
parted from hym, and when I cam to the chambr 


tKe [quene heard] of me and sent for me^ and sayde I 
here say my lord my [brother is] here; it ys trowth^ 
sayd I; I am very glad, said sh[c tftat we] hofhe 
be so ny together; and I showed .hyr h^re wase 
. . . * Weston and Brerton, and she made yery 

gnd countenans . I also , sayd,. M. Page 

and Wyet wase mo, then she sayd he ha • . . . 
on hys fyst tother day and ye here now hot ma . ': 
^ . . . I shall desjrre you to bayre a letter from 
me [to Master] Secretory; and then I sayd, mad&my 
tell it me by [twrd of mouth &; I] will do- it, and so 
gaf me thanks sajdng, I ha[re moche marvell] that the 
kyng's counsell comes not to me; and thys [same day 
she] sayd we shuld have now rayne tyll she ware [de- 
livered owt] of the Towre. I pray you it may be 
shortly by [cawse of the] fayre wether. You know 
what I mayne. The quen[e sayd this] nyght that 
ihe kyng. wyst what he dyd wh[an he put soche] ij 
abowt hjnr as my lady Boleyn and Mestres [Cosyns, 
for] thay cowd tell hyr now thyng of my [lord hen 
father nor] nothyng ellys, bot she defyed them alL 
'B[ot upon this my lady Bolen] sayd to hyr, seche 
desyre as you heve ha[rf to soche tales] base browthe 
you to thys. And then sayd [Mrs. Stoner, Marke] 
ys the worst cheryssht of heny m[an in the Jiowse, 
for he] wayresyemes, she sayd fliat was [becaws 


ke was no] gantleiitaii. Bot he wase neTer in m[y 
ekanif but at Winchestry and] ther Ae sent for hym to 
plielf an the virginalsjfor there my] logyng was [above 
the kings] ««.«... 

4 for I never spake with 

hym syns^ bot apon Saterday before May day> and 
then I fond hym standjmg in the ronde wyndo in my 
chambr of presens^ and I asked why he wase so sad, 
and he ansnred and sayd it was now mater, and then 
she sayd, you may not loke to have me qpieke to yon 
as I shnld do to anobnil man^ by cause you be anin^ 
fererpersson. No^no^ madam, alokesufik^ed me; and 
thus fiur you well . • [s^e hathe asked my wyf 
wheth^ heny body maks thayr bed . . • • [m]y 
wyf ansured and sayd, nay, I warant you, then she 

say y myg^t make baletts Well 

now bot tiier ys non bet «««•«.». d 

that can do it, yese sayd my wyf master Wyett by 

» . . sayed trew. 

. ; . • mylordmybrod'willdy.^ 

. . . . ne I am snr thys was as >willm kyngstok. 

» . . tt downe to den' tiiys day.) 

thys day at diner I sent M. Nores hys 

diner & sent hym a knave to 


hys joest that wayted apon hytn witiie ... . * 

t unto hyiB^ and he ansnied faym 

agayn ............ Bytihyngof 

my cpBfeasioa he js worChye to ha^e . . . • . 
. . hyt I defy hyxn; and also he desyreth to hav 

• . . ; [ha]lf anowre yf it may be the 

kyngs plesur . 



Sir William Kyngstan to Secretary CrommU^ with further 
details of the Queeifs condrnt 

[m8. cotton, otro c. X. fol. 234 b.] 

Thb quene hathe mecbe desyred to have here in 
the closet the sacannents> & also hyr amner who she 
fiapposeth to be Devet; for won owre she ys deter-^ 
myned to dy> and tbe next owte meche contrary to 
that. Yesterday after your departyng I setit for my 
wyf, & also for mestrys Cossyn to know how the^ 
had done Aat day^ tiiey sayd she had bene very 
mery and made agret dyner, and yet sone after she 



called far hyr supper^ havyng marvell wher I was all 
day; and after supper- she sent for me^ and at my 
commyng she sayd> '^ Whet have you bene all day/' 
and I. mad.ansnre I had bene with prysoners^ '^so/' 
she sayd, " I thowth I hard M; TresuT[cr'' J I ansnred 
he was not here; then she be gan taike and sayd I 
was creuely handeled .... a Greweche with 
the kyngs donnsell with my lord of Norfolke that he 
sayd, [Tut, tut, tut,} and shakyng bys hed iij or iiij 
tymes, and as for Master Tresurer he was in the 
[Forest of Windsor J] You know what she meynes by 
that, and named Mf Controler to be avery [gentleman^ 
..... she to be a quene and crerely handeled 
as was never sene; bot I [think the king} dose it to 
prove me, and dyd lawth with all and was very mery, 
and th[en she said I shall have just'jista; and then I 
sayde have now dowt ther[ti?]; then she saydyf hony 
man [accuse tne I dan say bot njay, & thay can bring 
now wytnes, and she had talked with the gentell[«e;e- 
mefi] sayd I knew at Marks com- 
myng to the Towre that nyght I reysayved . . . 
... at it was x. of the cloke or he ware well 
loged, and then she sayd ..... knew of 
Nores goyng to the Towre, and then she sayd I had 

next yf it had bene leyd she had 

wone, and then she sayd I v[[old God I had m]j bys- 
shoppys for thay wold all go to the kyng for me, for 


I tIiy[iiA;e the most part of] Yngland prays for me, and 
yf I dy you shall se the grette[sf punishment for i»]e, 
withyn thys vij yere that ever cam to Ynglaad, & 
then sh[€ sayd I shal he in heaven, for] I have done 
mony gad dedys in my days, hot zit I thynke \moiihe 
enhindnes yn the\ kyng to put seche abowt me as i 
never loved: I showed [Aer that the king toke theym] to 
be honest and gud wemen, hot I wold have had [of 
myn owne pr^ chambre^ weche I favor most &c. 


To Mast' Seretory. 


EibDord Baynton to the Treasurer: declaring that only 
one person^ named Mark, wUl confess any thing against: 
Queen Anne. 

[us* COTTON. OTHO C, X. fi>l. 309. b.] 

M" Thsasurbr, 
This shalbe to advertyse yow that here is myche 
communycacion tiiat noman will confesse any thyng 
agaynst her, but allonly Marke of any actuell thynge. 
Wherfore (in my fblishe concejrte) it shulde myche 
toche the kings hono<^ if it shulde no farther appeere. 
And I cannot beleve but that the other two bee 

VOL. H. Q 


as f[fi%] eulpapnll as eter was hee* And I thynke 
hBBnx[edlt/] the on kepith the otilers coanceH. As 
many .... conjectures in my nxynde canseth 
nte to thynk . . . specially of the commnny- 
cacion &at was last het[wene] the qnene and Mas-* 
ter Norfes. M": Anmener [ioMe] me as I woWe I 
myght speke with M' S[ecretorie] and yow together 
more playnely expresse my . . . yf case be 
that they have confessyd like wret ... all* 
thyngs as they sholde do than my n . . . . 
. . at apoynte. I have mewsed myche at . . 
.... of mastres Margery whiche hath used 
her .... strangely toward me of late, being 
her try[nde] as I have ben. But no dowte it can- 
nlot be] but that she must be of councell there- 
with, [there] hath ben great firyndeship betwene Htkp 
q[ene and] her of late. I here farther that the quelne] 
standith styfly in her opynyon that she wo . « . 
. . . whiche I thylike is in the trttst that she 
. . . . ther two. But if yo' busynes be suche 

not com, I woide gladly com and 

wayte ..*•... ke it requysyte. ¥t6m 
GrenewyfcAr] morfir$mg. 




Sir William Kyngston to Secretary Cromwell, May 16'? 
1536, upon the preparations for the execution of my 
Lord Rochford and Queen Anne. 

[harl. MS. 28a. fol. 134. Oiig^ 

Thys day I was tvith the kyng's grace and de- 
clared the petysyons of my Lord of Rochford, 
wherm I was answred. Sir, the sayd lord meche 
desyreth to speke wiA you, weche towchet hys con- 
syens meche as he sayth, wherin I pray you I may 
know your plesur, for by cause of my promysse made 
unto my sayd lord to do the same, and also I shall 
desyre you further to know the kyngs plesur towch-r 
yng the queue, as wcfD for her comfyt as for the pre- 
paracion of skefolds and hpther necessarys consent- 
jrug*. The kyng's grace showed me that my lord of 
Caiit(»rbury shuld be hyr confessar, aiid was here 
thys day with the queue; & not^ in that mater, sir, 
the tyme ys short, for the kyug stq>t>oseth thd 'gen«- 
telmen to dy to morow, and my lord of Rocheford 
with the rey«ydew of gestelmen, 8t as lit with yowt 
[corfeisiml weche I loke for, bet I haye tcdd my lord 
of Rocheford that he be in aredynes to morow to 

'' note. 



suffiir execusyon^ and so he accepse® it very weD, 
and will do his best to be redy, Notwithstandyng he 
wold have reysayved hys ryghts, weche hathe not 
bene used and in especiall here. Sir, I shall desyre 
you at^ we here may know the kyngs plesur here as 
shortly as may be, at^ we here may prepayre for the 
same weche ^® ys necessary, for the same we here 
have now may for to do execusyon. Sir, I pray you 
have gud rymembrance in all thys for hus^^ to do, for 
we shalbe redy al ways to our knowlage. Zit thys 
day at dyner the queue sayd at^ she shuld go to 
Anvures^^ & ys in hope of lyf, and thus far you well. 



Sir William Kingston to Lord CromtDell, apparently 
May 18? 1536. 

[MS. COTTON. OTHO C. X. fol. 223.] 

Thys shalbe to advertjrsQ you I have resayved 
your lett' wherin yo[tc wolde] have strangerys con- 
veyed yowt of the Towre and so thay be by the 
[meanis] of Richard Gressum, & Will-m Loke, & 
Wythepoll, bot the. nmbr" of sim[ngers past] not 
XXX. and not mony; Hothe and the inbassit' of the 

» that "'' 

** Anvers, Antwerp. ■' number. 


emperor had a [serDaunf\ ther and honestly put yowt 
S' yf we have not an owre** serten [as it niay] be 
knowen in London, I thynke he[re] wilbe hot few 
and I thynk [a resonable\ humbur^ ware bes: for I 
suppose she wyll declare hyr self to b[e a good] wo- 
man for all men bot for the kyng at the o*^ of hyr 
depA. For thys] momyng she sent for me that I 
myght be with hyr at [soche tyme] asshe reysayved 
the gud lord to the in tent I shnld here hy[r speke asj 
towchyng her innosensy alway to be clere. & in 
the writy[w^ of this] she sent for me, and at my com- 
myng she sayd, M, Kyngston, I he[ar saye I shall] 
not dy aflfore none, & I am very sory ther fore; 
for I thowth [than to] be dede [an]d past my payne. 
I told hyr it shuld be now payne it w[fls so sottelL 
jlnd then she said I] hard say the executf was very 
gad, and I have a ly[^^/e neckey and put Ae]r hand 
abowt it lawjHig hartely. 

I have sen[e mony men i{] also wemen executed 
and at they have bene in gre[^e sorrowe, and to my 
knowle]ge thys lady hathe meche joye and plesur in 
dethe. [Sir^ hyr Amner is cow^i]newally with hyr, and 
basse byne syns ij of the c\o\cke after midnight. This 
is] the effect of hony thyng that ys here at [thys tyme, 

and thus fare yow] well. 



'^ an hour. *' numW. 

ThefoBawing^pttraUel between Lmtd md WoUmf U rrferredto in m 
note at p. 274 of tie Life of Woleey. It wot printed at the tame 
time and for the eame purpose at thefirtt garbled edition of that 
life; namely -^to pnjudiee ArcKbitkop Laud in the mmdt of the 
people. Tkt prets then teamed with p m npkkt ^ hvdled est him, mi 
in the tmne vohtm^ I find tw9 othert : ** Th$ Vknwtterefam WHkrw 
Bithop, with a JRedpe to recover a Bitkop if he were lott^*' And 
•— " Englandt Rejoycing at the Prelatet Dowffallj written hy an 
lU-wiUer to the Romith Brood:*' both of the tame date. 














Th£R£ be two primates, or arch-bishops thronghont 
England and Wales, Canterburle and Yorke, both me- 
tropolitans, York of England, Canterburie of all Eng^- 
land, for so their titles runne. To the primate of 
Canterliurie bee subordinate thirteene bishops in Eng- 
land, and fonre in Wales. But the primate of Yorke 
hath at this time but two suffiragans in England: 
namely, the Bishops of Carliele, and Durham: though 
hee had in King Lucius dayes, (who was the first 
Christian king of this our nation) all the prelacy of 
Scotiand within his jurisdiction: Canterburie com- 
manding all firom this side the River Trent to the 
furthest limits of Wales; and York commanding all 
from beyond the Trent to the utmost bounds of Scot- 
land, and hitherto, their prime archiepisoopall prero^ 
gativfs may (not unproperly) be paralleld. 

In the time of Henrie the first were potent two fa- 


mous prelates, Anselme of Canterbniie, who durst 
contest against the king, and Girald of Yorke, who de- 
nyed to give place or ai|y prece4ence at all to Anselme. 
Thomas Becket, who was first chancellour, and after 
Arch-bishop of C^terburiej in the reigne of Henrie 
the Second, bore himselfe so insolently against the 
king his soveraigne, that it cost him his life, being 
slaine in the church as he was going to the altar. 
But above all, the pride, tyrannic, and oppression of 
the Bishop of Ely, in the reigne of Richard the First, 
wants exaipple, who was at once ChanceUoor of 
England, and Regent of the Ifind, ^nd held in his 
hand ^t once the two Arch-bishopricks (tf York and 
Canteri[>urie, who wyer rid abroad withoi^t a thousand 
horse for his guard to attend him, whom we may 
well parallel with the now great Cardinall of France: 
and need hee l|ad of such a traine to kpep himselfe 
from being pulled to peeces by the OK>i^essed pre* 
lates, and people, equpdly extorting from the clergie 
and laietie; yet he in the end, disguising himselfe in 
the shape of an old woman, thinking tp passe the 
sea at Dover, where hee aivf^yted pn llie Strand^ a 
pinace being hired for that purpose, be was disoo^ 
vexed by a sayler, and brought backe to al)ide a 
most severe sentepipe. Stephen l4anctI|on,Arc}i-bishop 
of Canter|>ii|ie, in the time JUng John, wou|d not ab* 


solve the land, being for sixe yeares together indicted 
by the pope, till die king had payd unto him and 
the rest of the bishops^ eightoene thousand marices 
in gold; and thus I could continue the pride of the 
prelacie, and their great tyrannie through all I3m 
tings leignes: But I now £bJ1 upon the piomist pa- 
rallel betwixt Thomas Wolsey , Arcb-Ushop of Yc^k, 
and Cardinally and William liaud. Doctor in Diyinitie, 
and Arch-bishop of Canterburie. 

They were both the sonnes of meane and mecha^ 
nick m^i, Wolsey of a butcher. Laud of a clpthworker. 
The one borne in Ipswich (threescore miles), the other 
in Beading, thirtie miles distant from the City of Lon- 
don, both of them verie toward, forward, and pregr 
nant grammar schollars, and of singular apprehen- 
sions, as suddenly rising to the first forme in the 
schoole. From thence, being yong, they were re- 
moved to the Vniversitie of Oxford, Wolsey admitted 
into Maudlin Coledge, Laud into St. lohns; and as 
they were of different times, so tbey were of different 
statures; yet either pf them well shapt according to 
their proportions; Wolsey was of a competent tall- 
nesae. Laud of a lesse sise, but might be oalled a 
prettie man, as the other a proper man: both of in- 
genious and acute aspects, as may appeare by this 
nUtns fac0, the others picture. In their particular 
coJUedges they w^e alike prt^pients, both as active 


of tx>dy as braine^ serious at their piiyate studies^ 
and equally frequent in the schooles, eloquent era- 
tors> either to write^ speake> or dictate, daintie dis* 
putants, well yerst in philosophy, both morall, phy- 
sically and metaphysical, as also in the mathema- 
ticks, and neither of them strangers to the muses, 
both taking their degrees according to their time; 
and through the whole academic. Sir Wolsey was 
called the boy-batchelour, and Sir Laud the little 

The maine study that either of them fixt upon was 
theology: for though they were conversant in all the 
other arts and sciences, yet that they solely profest, 
and by that came their future preferment; Wolsey 
being Batchelour was made schoole-master of Maudlin 
Schoole in Oxford: but Laud came in time to be 
master of St. lohns Colledge in Oxford, therein tran- 
scending the other, as also in his degrees of Master 
of Art, Batchelour of Diyinitie, and Doctor of Divi- 
nitie, when the other being suddenly cald from the 
rectorship, of his schoole, to be resident upon a 
countrie benefice,he tookno more academicall degrees, 
than the first of Batchelour, and taking a strange 
i^lront by one Sir Amias Paulet, a knight in the 
countrie, who set him in the stocks, he indured like- 
wise divers other disasters: but that disgrace he 
made the knight pay dearely for, after he came to bo 


invested in hid di^tie. Briefely, they came both to 
stand in the princes eye; but eate I proceed any for- 
ther, let me give the courteous reader this modest 
caveat^ that he is to expect from me onely, a pctral- 
leU of their acts and fortune^ but no legend of their, 
lives; it therefore briefely thus followeth. 

Both these from academicks comming to tnme 
courtiers ; Wolsey^ by his diligent waiting, came to 
insinuate himselfe into the brests of the privie coun- 
sellours. His first emploiment was in an embassie 
to the emperour, which was done by such fortunate, 
and almost incredible expedition, that by that only 
he grew into first grace with King Henry the Seventh, 
father to King Henry the Eighth. Laud, by the me- 
diation and meanes wrought by friends grew first 
into favour with King lames of sacred memory, father 
to our now royall soveraigne King Charles. They 
were both at first the kings chaplaines, Wolseyes first 
preferment was to bee Deane of Idncolne, of which 
hee was after bishop. Lauds first ecclesiasticall dig- 
nity was to be Deane of Saint Davids, of which he 
was after bishop also. And both these pi^laticall 
courtiers came also to be privie counlsellotirs. Wool- 
sey in Ihe beginning of Henry the Eighth's raigne, was 
made Bishop of Tourney in France, soone after Bishop 
of Lincoln, and before his full consecration (by the 
death of the incumbent) was ended, translated to the 


Arch-bishoprick of Toik, and all tii&t wfthifi the coin- 
passe of a yBare; Land, tiioagfa not so suddainlj, yet 
very q»eedily was fimn St Davids lemoTed to Lon- 
don, and from London to Canterbnrie^ and this in tlie 
beginning of Ae reigne of King CSiailes. Hins yon 
see they were both arch-bishops^ and as Land was 
never cardinally so Woolsey was never Canterbnrie. 

Bnt in some things the cardinall much exceeded 
Canteibnrie^ as in holding all these bishopricks at 
once^ when the other was never possest but of one at 
one tune. The cardinall also held the bishopri<& of 
Winchester, of Worcester, Balh and Wells, with a 
fonrth, and two abbat-ships in connnendam: He 
had besides an hat sent him from Rome, and made 
himselfe cardmall, (that being before but Yoike) he 
might over-top Canterbnrie. But our Wilfiam, how- 
soever he might have the wifl, yet never attained to 
that power, and howsoever faee could not compasse 
a hat from Bcmi^ yet made the meanes to have a con- 
secrated miter sent irom Rome; which was so nar-^ 
rowly watcht, that it came not to his wearing. More- 
over, the cardinall extorted the chancellonrship £ram 
Canterbnrie; but we finde not that Cantertiarie ever 
either trendit npon the jurisdiction, or tooke any 
thing away firom the arch-bishopridL of Yoik. 

Woolsey likewise fanre out-went him in his nume- 
rous traine, and the noblenesse thereoi^ being waited 


da nat onely by fKe prime gentrie, but even of eades, 
and earles sonnes, who yrete listed in his family, aitd 
attended him at his table, as also in his hospitalities 
his open honse being made free for all conmieTs, with 
the rare and extraoidinaiie state of his palace^ m 
wMch there were daily uprising and downe-lying a 
tiiousand persons, who were his domestiok serrants^ 
Moreover in his many entertainments of the iL with 
masks, and mightie sunrptaous banquets, his smnpta-' 
COS buildings, the prince-hke state he carried in his 
forraigne embassages, into Prance, to the emperor, dcci 
in which he spent more coyne in the service of hisi 
king> for the honour of his. countrie, and. to uphold 
the credit of his cardinals cap, than would (for the 
time) have paid an armie royal. But I answer in 
behalfe of our Canterburie, that hee had never that 
meanes or imployment, by which hee might make so 
vain-glorious a show of his pontificalitie, or archie- 
piscopall dignitie: For unbounded mindes may bee 
restrained within narrow limmits, and therefore the 
parallel may something hold in this too. . 

They were also in their judicial! courts equally 
tyrannous; the one in the chancerie, the other in the 
high commission: both of them at the councell bo(»;d, 
and in the starre-chamber alike draconically super- 
cilious. Blood drawne from Doctor Bonners head by 
the fall of his crosse presaged the cardinals downfidL 


Blood drawne firoxn the eares of Barton, Prin, and 
Bastwick> was a prediction of Canterburies mine ; the 
first accidentally the last premeditate and of pnrpose^^* 
The cardinall would have expelled all the Lutherans 
and Protestants out of the realme, this our Canterburie 
would have exU'd both our Dutdi and French church 
out of the kingdome. The cardinall took maine de- 
light in his foole Patch, and Canterburie tooke much 
delight in his partie-coloured cats. The cardinall 
used for his agents Bonner and others, Canterbuiie 
for his ministers. Duck, Lamb, and others. They 
both fayoured the Sea of Rome, and respected his 
holinesse in it The cardinall did professe it pub- 

■6 This mention of omena reminds me that Dr. Wordsworth in 
his notes to Wolsey's Life has related the foUowing affecting anec- 
dote of Archbishop Laud. 

« Th« year 1639 we all know was big with events calamitous to 
Laud, and to the church and mcmarchy. In Lambeth Library is 
preserved a small pane of glass, in which are writtrai with a dia- 
mond pencil the following words: 

Memorand: Ecclesi» de 

Micham, Cheme et Stone, cum aliis 

fulgnro combusta sunt 

Januar: 14, 163§. 

Omen evertat Deus. 

On a piece of paper the same size as the glass and kept in- 
the same case with it, is written by the hand of Alq[>. Wake, as 
follows: '' This glasse was taken out of the west-window of the 
gallery at Croydon before I new-built it: and is, as I take it, the 
writing of Abp. Laud's own hand«^' 


lickly^ the arch-bishop did reverence it privately. 
The cardinalls ambition was to bee pope^ the arch* 
bishop strove to bee patriarchy they both bid fia,irely 
for it, yet lost their aime; and farre easier it is for 
meii to descend than to ascend. 

The cardinall (as I have said) was very ambitious; 
the arch-bishop was likewise of the same minde, 
though better moulded, and of a more politick braine, 
having a close and more reserved judgement in all 
his observations, and more fluent in his deliverie. 
Hie iciardinall was verie curious in his attire and or*^ 
nament of his body, and took great delight in hist 
traine, and other his servants for their rich aparrell; 
the arch-bishop his attire was neat and rich, but not 
so gaudie as the cardinals was, yet tooke as much 
felicitie in his gentlemens rich aparreU, especially 
those that waited on his person, as ever the cardinal! 
did, though other men paid for Ihem: and if all men 
had Iheir owne, and every bird her feather, some of 
thein would bee as bare as those that profbsse them- 
selves to bee of the sect of the Adamists: To speake 
truth, the arch-bishops men were all given to covet- 
ousnesse and wantonnesse; that I never heard of 
was in the cardinals men. 

As the cardinall was sumptuous in his buildings, 
as that of White Hall, Hampton Court, &c. as also 
in laying the foundation €>f two famous coledges, the 



one at Ipswich^ where he was borne, the other at 
Oxford/where he had his breeding: so Christ-Chnrch, 
which he left unfinished, Canteirbuiie hath since re- 
paired; and wherein he hath come short of him in 
building, though he hath bestowed much on St. lohns 
Coledge, yet he hath out-gone him in his bountie of 
braye vduminous books, being fonrescore in number, 
late sent to the Bodleian or Universitie librarie: 
Further, as the cardinall was Chancelour of England, 
so Canterburie was Chancellour of Oxford: And as 
the cardinall by plucking downe of some small ab- 
bies, to prepare stone for his greater structures, 
opened a gap for the king, by which he tooke the 
advantage utterly to raze and« demolish the rest: so 
Canterburie by giving way fot one bishop to have a 
temporall triall; and to be convicted, not by the 
Olergie, but the laitie, so he left the same path open 
both for himselfe and the test of the episcopacie: of 
which, there before scarce remained a president 

I have paralleld them in their dignities: I will 
conclude with a word or two concerning their downe- 
falls. The cardinall fell into the displeasure of his 
king, Canterburie into an extreame hatred of the com- 
mons: both were arrested of high treason, the cardi- 
nall by processe, Canterburie by parliament. The 
cardina]! at Kejrwood Castle neare Yorke, Canterburie 


at Westminster neare London; both their falls were 
speedy and suddaine: The cardinall sate as this day 
in the high court of chancerie> and within two dayes 
after was confined to his house; Canterburie as this 
day sate at the counsell boord^ and in the upper 
house of parliament^ and the same day committed to 
the blacke rod, and from thence to the Tower: The 
. cardinall dyed at Leicester some say of a flux; Can^ 
terburie lemaines still in the Tower^ onely sid^ of a 
feyer. Famtas vanitaittm, omnia vanitas. 




The Will of Thomas Wohey, Cardinal Wohey's father; 
E Libro Testamentorum in Registro principali Dni. 
Epi. Norwic. Mtdton inscripto^ fo, 146. a. 

In Dei Nomine, amen. The xxxi day of the 
Mbneth of September the yer of our Lord God a 
m. cccclxxxxvi. I Robert Wulcy of Ipyswiche hool 
of mend and in good memory beyng, make my testa- 
ment and my last wyll in this maid wyse, Fyrst, I 
bequeth my soull to Almyghty God, our Lady Sent 
Mary, and to all the company of hevyn, and my 
body to be buryed in the churche yard of our Lady 
Sent Mary of Neum'ket. Also I beq. to the hey 
aut' of the pariche of Sent Nicholas of Ippyswiche 
vi! vij? Also I beq. to the pentyng of the archangell 
ther, xl! Itm. I wyll that if Thomas my son be a 
prest, win a yer next after my decesse, than I wyll 
that he syng for me and my frends, be the space of a 
yer, and he for to have for his salary x marc, and if 
the seyd Thomas my son be not a prest than I wyll 
that a nother honest prest syng for me and my frends 
the term aforeseyd and he to have the salary of x 
marc. Itm. I wyll that Johan my wyf have all my 
lands and ten!f in the pariche of Sent Nicholas in 


Ippiswich aforesaid, and my free and bond londs in 
the piche of S* Stoke to geve and to sell the residew 
of all my goods afor not bequethed, I geve and be- 
qnethe to the good disposition of Johan my wyff, 
Thomas my soon, and Thomas Cady, whom I order 
and make my executors to dispose for me as thei shall 
think best to pies allmyghty Grod and p~fyt for my 
soull; and of this my testiment and last wyll I orden 
and make Richard Farrington sup'visour, and he for to 
have for his labour xiij'- iiij*^ and yf the seid Richard 
deserve more he for to have more of Johan my wyff. 
Itm. I beq. to the seyd Thomas Cady my executor 
aforeseyd xiij'* iiij* Yevyn the day yer and place 
above wretyn. 

Probatumfuitpre$€ns Testamentum apud Gipwic, corun^ 
noMs Offic. Cam. Dm. Epi Norwic. xj die mensis Octobris 
Anno Dm. Millimo cccc-^ Ixxxxvi. In cujus rei testU 
fnonium Sigittum, S^c. . 



From the Earl of Northumberland addressed "To his 
bd€fted C(w/^n Thomas Arundel, one of the Gentlemen 
Ofnij/ Lord Legates frevy chambre.^ It was written 
soon after the death of the Earts father, in 1527. 
Referred to at p. 272 of Wolsey's life. 

[from the archives of the duke op NORTHUMBERLAND.] 

Bedfellow^ after my most harte recomendacion: 
Thys Monday the iijd off August I itesevyd by my 
servaunt. Letters from yow beryng datt the xx^ day 
off July, deliveryd unto hym the sayme day at the 
kyngs to^m of Newcastell; wher in I do perseayff 
my lord Cardenalls pleasour ys to hare such boks as 
was in the Chapell of my lat lord and ffayther (wos 
soil Jhu pardon). To the accomplyshment of which 
at your desyer I am confformable, notwithstanding I 
trust to be able ons to set up a chapel off myne 
owne. But I pray God he may look better upon me 
than he doth. But me thynk I have lost very moch^ 
ponderyng yt ys no better regardyd; the occasion 
wher off he shall persayff. 


F^t, the long lyeng of my tressorer^ with hys 
Tery hasty and unkynd words unto hym, not on my 
parte deserved. 

Also the n^ws off Mr. Manyng^ the which ys blon 
obtQitd Oyer all Yorksher ; that neyther by the kyng^ 
nor by my ,Iord cardenall am I regardyd; And that 
he wyll tell me at my metyng with hym, when I 
come Vfito Yorksher; which shall be within thys 
months God wyllyng: but I ffer* my words to M' 
Manyng shall displeas my lord; for I will be no 


Also, bedfellow, the payns I tayk and have taykyii 
sens my comyng hether, are not better regardyd; but 
by a fflatteryng Byshope of Carel^ and that fals 
Worm* shall be broth® to the messery and carfful- 
ness that J am in; and in such slanders, that now 
and my lord cardenal wold, he cannot bryng lue 

bowthT thereof. 

« « « « iit 

I shall with all ^ped send up your lettrs with the 

* That is Ms long continuance with the cardinal. 

^ He had probably disobliged the king by his attachment to 
Anne Boleyn. 

3 fear. * Carlisle. 

5 William Worm, whom he mentions in a former letter, as the 
person who betrayed him. 

* brought. 7 out. 


bodes unto my lord's grace, as to say iiij Anteffo- 
nars^ such as I thynk were not seen a gret wyll; w 
Grails; an Ordeorly; aManuall; viij^ ProffessionerSj, 
And ffor all the ressidew, they not worth the sending, 
nor ever was occupyd in my lords chapeL And also 
I shall wryt at thys time as ye have wylled me, 

YflFmy lord's grace wyll be so good Lord unto me, 
as to gyf me lychens^ to put Wyll" Worme within a 
castell of myn off Anwyk in assurty, unto the tyme 
he have accomptyd ffor more money tetA than ever 
I rec^, I shall gyff hys grace ij C? and a benefiss off 
a C. worth unto hys colleyg, with such other thyngs 
resserved as his [grace] shall desyre; but unto such 
tyme as myne Awdjrtors hayth takyn accompjt off 
him: wher in good bedfellow do your begt, ffor els h^ 
shall put us to send myselff, as at owr metyng I shall 
show yow. 

And also gyff secuer credens unto this berer, whom 

" Antiphonars, Grails, Orderlys, Manuals, and Professionaries, 
are books containing different portions of the Roman Catholic 
Ritual. See Percy's Northumberland Household Book, p. 446, 
eind Barn's Ecclesiastical Law. 

' licence. There is a tradition at Alnwick that an auditor was 
formerly confined in the dungeon under one of the towers till he 
could make up his accounts to his lord's satisfaction. 


I assur yow I have ffonddon a marrellous honest 
man^ as ever I ffownd in my lyff. In hast at my 
monestary of Hul Park the iij? day of August In 
the owne hand pff 

Yours ever assured, 

To my bedfellow Arundel. 


The Earl of Northumberland to Cromwellj denying any 
contract or promise of marriage between Anne Bullen 
and himself 

[original, cott. lib. otho. c. 10.] 

W" Secretary, This shall be to signifie unto you 
that I perceive by Sir Raynold Camaby, that there 
is supposed a precontract between the queen and 
me; wherupon I was not only heretofore examined 
upon my oath before the Archbishopps of Canterbury 
and York, but also received the blessed sacrament 
upon the same before the Duke of Norfolk, and 
other the king's highnes* council learned in the spi^ 
ritual law; assuring you M" Secretary, by the said 
oath, and blessed body which affore I received, and 


hereafter intend to leoeiye, that the same may be td 
my damnation, if oyer there were any contracte or 
promise of marric^ between her and me. At New- 
ington Green, the xiijth day of Maye, in the 28^ year 
of the reigne of our soyeraigne lord King Henry the 

Your assured, 



Queen Catherine of Arragoji and King Henry VHP to 
Cardinal fVolsey,ajoint letter, 1527. 

[MS. COTTON. VITELL. B. XII. fol. 4.] 

Mr. Ellis has printed this letter in its mutilated condition; I have 
ventured to supply the lacuna from the copy in Burnet's History 
of the Reformation, vol. i. p. 55. Burnet obtained his transcript 
when it was in a perfect state, but has unaccountably attributed 
the ficsttplurt of the letter to Anne Boleyn. It is however said 
by Mr. Ellis to be in the hand-writing of Catherine, and cannot 
but be considered very interesting. 

My Lord, in my moste humblyst wys that my hart 
can thinke [I desire you to pardon'] me that I am so 
bold to tPoubyl yow with my sympyl [<5r rude wryteng, 
estemyng'] yt to prosed from her.that is muche desirus 
to kno{we that youer grace does^ tvelLli I paersave be 



this berar tUat you do; the widie I [praye God 
hng to contmewe^'\ as I am moste bonde to pray, fm 
X do know the ^reate paints and trowbles that] you 
have taken for me bbthe day and nyght \is never tike 
to be recompemyd on] my part, bat aUonly in loreng 
you next on to the [hinges grace above alt] creatures 
leveng; and I do not dought but the \dayly proffes of 
my deades] shall manefestly declaer and afeima my 
wryte[7ig to be trezve, and I do] truste you do thynke 
the same. My lord, I do assure you I do long to 
heare from you som newes of the legat, for I do hope 
and [they come from you they] shall be very good, and 
I am seur that you deseyre {it as moche as I] and 
more, and ytt waer possibel as I knowe ytt ys. not: 
And thus remaineing in a stedfast hope I make anend 
of my letter, [writtyn txnth the hande] of her that is 
moste bounde to be 

t3* Here Queen Catherine's part ends, the rest is in the hand writ' 
i^g of Henry the Eighth, 

The wrytter of thys letter wolde not cease tyll she 
had [caused me likewise] to set to my hand desyryng 
yow thowgh it be short to ilake it in good part.] I 
ensure yow ther is nother of us but that grettly de- 
syry[^A to see you, and] muche more rejoyse to heare 
that you have scapyd thys plage [so weUj trustyng] 
the fury thereof to be passyd, specially with tliem 


that ilepjfth good dieW] as I trust you doo. The not 
heryng of the legates aiywall [in Franse causeth] us 
soQiwhat to muse; nottwithstandyng we trust by 
your dily[^eiM and vigilancy] (with the assystence of 
Ahnyghty 6od) shortly to be easyd owght [of thcA 
trouble.'] No more to ypw at ihys tyme but that I 
pray God send yow [as good health] and prosperity a^^ 
the wryters wolde. 

By your lovyng solveraign S^frende] 

H£NR[F R.] 


Anne Boleyn to Cardinal Wolsey, 
[fiddbs collections, p. 256.] 

My Lord, after my most humble recommendations 
this shall be to gyve unto your grace as I am most 
bownd my humble thanks for the gret payn & trayelle 
that your grace doth take in steudyeng by your wys- 
dome and gret dylygens how to bryng to pas honerr 
ably the gretyst welth that is possyble to. com^ to 
any creator lyving, and in especyall r^membryng 
howe wretchyd and unworthy I am in comparyng 
to bis hyghnes. And for you I do know my selfe 
never to have deservyd by my desertys that you 


shnld take this gret payn for me, yet dayly of your 
goodnes I do perceyve by all my frends, and though 
that I had nott knowlege by them the dayly proffe of 
your deds doth declare your words and wrytyng 
toward me to be trewe; nowe good my Lord your 
dyscressyon may consyder as yet how lytle it is in 
my power to recompence you but all onely wyth my 
good wyl, the whiche I assewer you that after this 
matter is brought to pas you shall fynd me as I am: 
bownde in the mean tym to owe you my servys6> 
and then looke what a thyng in thys wcnreld I can 
immagen to do you pleasor in, you shall fynd me 
the gladyst woman in the woreld to do yt> and next 
unto the kyngs grace of one thyng I make you full 
promes to be assewryd to have yt and that is my 
harty love tmfaynydly deweryng my lyf, and beying 
fully determynd with Godds grace never to change 
thys pbrpos, I make an end of thys my reude and 
trewe meanyd letter, praying ower Lord to send you 
moche increase of honor with long lyfe. Wryfteii 
with the hand of her that besechys your grace to 
except this letter as ptosydyng from one that is nfost 
bownde to be 

Your humble and 

obedient Servante 




Anne Bol^fn to Cardinal Wolsey. 


Collated with the Original in the Cottonian CoUectim. Brit. Mu». 
Otho c. X. fol. 218. 

My Lord, in my mo$t hnmblyst wyse that my 
powner hart can thynke I do thanke yonr grace for 
yonr kind letter, imd for youer rych and goodly pre- 
sent, the whyche I shall never be able to desarve wyth 
owt yoi|r gret helpe, of the whyche I have hetherto 
hade so grete plente that all the dayes of my lyfe I 
ame^ moaste bownd of all creators next the kyngs 
grace to love and serve your grace, of tihie whyche I 
besyche yon never to dowte that ever I shalle vary 
frome this thought as long as ony brethe is in my 
body. And as tochyng your grace's treble with the 
swet I thanke ower Lord that them that I desyerd 
and prayed for ar scapyd, and that is the kyng and 
you. Not doughthyng bot that God has preservyd 
you bothe for grete cawsys knowen allonly to his 
hygh wysdome. And as for the commyng of the 
legate I desyer that moche; and yf it be Goddis 
pleasor I pray him to send this matter shortly to a 


good ende; and then I trast my lord to recompense 
part of your grete panys, the whych I must requyer 
you in the meane tyme to excepte my good wyll in 
the stede of the power, the whyche must prosede 
partly from you as ower Lourd knoweth to whome 
I be syche to sonde you longe lyfe with continew- 
ance in honor. Wry tten wyth the hande of her that 
is most bound to be 

Your humble and 

obedyent servante, 



Cardinal Wolsey in his Distress to Thomas Cromwell. 

MS. COTTON VESP. F. XIII. fol. 76. 

From Fiddes* Collections^ p, 256. Collated with the original. 

Myn owne enterly belovyd Cromwell, 
I beseche you as ye love me and wyl evyr do any 
thyng for me, repare hyther thys day as sone as the 
parlement ys brokyn up, leyng aparte all thyngs for 
that tyme; for I wold nat onely commynycat thyngs 
unto yow wherin for my comfort & relief I wold have 
your good sad, dyseret advyse & counsell, but also 
opon the same commytt sertyng thyngs requyryng 


expedkion to yaw, on taj behalf toi be sdlycytyd: 
this I pray yoii therfor, to hast your commyng hytber 
assaforei with owt omyttyng so to do^ as ye t^idyr 
my socor^ reliff & comfort^ and quyetnes of mynde« 
And thus fare ye well: from Asher^ in hast> thyd 
Satyrday in the momyng, with the rude hande & 
sorrowful hert of your assuryd lover 

T. car"* ebor. 

I haye also serteyn thyhgs consemyng yowr sylf 
wych I am suere ye wolbe glad to here & knowe; 
fayle not therfore to be here thys nygth, ye may. 
retome early in the momyng ageyn yf nede shul so 
requyre. Et iterum vale. 

Mr. Augusteyn^ shewyd me how ye had wrjrttyn 
onto me a lettre wherin ye shuld ady^'tjrse of the 
comyng hyther of the Duke of Norfoike: I assure 
you ther cam to my hands no suche lettre. 

' Dr. Augustine, or Agostino, a natiye of Venice, was physidaa 
to the cardinal, and was arrested at Cawood at the same time with 
his master, being treated with the utmost indignity: y. Life, pp. 
281, 284. In the Cottonian MS. Titus b. i. fol. 365, there is a 
letter of his to Thomas Cromwell, in Italian, requiring speedy 
inedical assistance, apparently for Cardinal Wolsey. It is dated 
Asher, Jam lOtii, 1520-30. Carendish describes him as being 
dressed in a ''boistous gown of black yelvet;" with which he 
overthrew one of the silver crosses, which broke Bonner's head in 



From Wolsey to Dr. Stq>hen Gardener, Secretary of State. 

Communicated to Mr. Grove by Mr. Littleton, afterwards Lord 
Littleton, who possessed the originals It is now in the Ashmole 
Museum at Oxford. 

My owne goods Mastyr Secretary, 
GoYNG this day out of my pue to sey masse, your 
lettres datyd yestemygth at Loudon wer delyveryd 
unto me; by the coutynue wherof I undyrstand, 
that the kyug's hyhnes, of hys excellent goodues & 
cheryte ys contentyd, that I shall injoy & have the 
admyuystracion of Yorke merly, with the gyftts of 
the promocyons spiritual 8c temporall of the same, 
reservyd onely onto his nobyll grace the gyft of v 
or yj of the best promocions. And that hys pleasure 
ys, I shal leve Wynchester & Saynt Albons. As 
hereonto Mt. Secretary, I can nat expresse howe 
moche I am bowndyn to the kyng's royal majeste 
for ihys hys gret & bowntawse liberalyte, reput- 
jng the same to be moche more then I shal ever 
be abyl to deserve. Howbeyt yf hys majeste, con- 
syderyng the short & lyttyl tyme that I shal lyve 
here in thys world, by the reason of such hevynes 
as I have concey ved in my hert, with the ruinyuose 

VOL. II. s 


of the olde howsys & the decay of the said arch- 
byshopryck at the best to the sum of viii C Marcke 
yearly, by the reeaon of the act passyd for Fynys 
of Testaments, wth also myn long paynfol servys 
and poore degre; and for the declaration of hys 
grace's excellent cheryte, yf hys hyhnes be myndyd 
I shal leve Wynchester & Saynt Albon's, wych I 
supposyd, when I maid my submyssyon, not offend- 
ying ii> my trewth towards hys royal parson, dyg- 
nyte, or majeste royal, I should not, now have 
desyrvyd to have left; and mnch the m6re knowyng 
his grace's excellent propensyon to pyte & mercy, & 
rememberyng the firancke departyiig with of all tha^t 
I had in thys world, that I may have summe conve-' 
nyent i>ension reservyd onto me, suche as the kyng^& 
hyhnes Of hys nobyll charite shal thynke mete, so 
Qrderyng his that shal succede and my lyryngv 
that the same may be of lyck valew yeerly and 
exstent. Whereat my trust ys, and my- hertiB so 
geyyth me, that hys majeste wold make no dyffy**^ 
culte, yf yt may lycke yow friendly to propone the 
same, assuryng yow that I desyre not thys for any 
mynde (God ys my judge), that I have to accumu^ 
late good, or desyre that I have to the muke of 
world; for, God be thankyd, at thys ower I set no. 
more by the ryches & promocyons of the world; 4en 
by the roshe undyr my fote; but onely for the deela- 


ration of the kyng^s favor 8t hyhe cheryte, & to 
hare wherewith to do good dedys, 8c to heipe my 
poore servants and kynnysfolks. And furthermoref 
that jt wold please the kyng's excellent goodnes by . 
your freindly niedyacion^ consyderyng how slendyrly 
I am fiimysfayed in my howse^ nowe specially that 
the apparell of Wynchester and Saynt Albons shal be 
takyn from me, to geve and appoynt unto me a con** 
yenyent femyture for the same, non ad pompamj sed 
necessariam honestatem. And 3^ I may have the free 
gyft and dyiqiosydon of the behefyces, yt shalbe 
gredy to my comfort. And yet when any of the v 
or vi pryncypall shal fortmie to be voyd, the kyng*g 
grace being myndyd to have any of them, hys hyhnes 
shalbe as snte of the same, as though they wer re- 
servyd. And thns by his nobyl & mercyful goodnes 
deljrvered owt of extreme calaniite, & restoryd to a 
newe fredome> I shal, with God's mercy & help, 
80 ordyr my lyff, that I trust hys majeste shal take 
special comfort therin, Sc be pleasyd with the same: 
Spero quod hoCy qwe peto, non videbitur magna. How* 
beyt I most humbly submyt and referre aU my pety-* 
tions, immo iputm vitam, to his gracyons ordynance 
& pleasure, praying yow to declare & sygnify the 
same, supplying myn indysposycion & lacke of wyt, 
conceyvyd by reason of my extreme sorowe & hevy- 
nes, that the same, may be to the kyng's contenta- 



tioUf wherin I had lever be ded then to offende in 
word, thowght, or dede, and as towching the grant- 
yng of the fee of one c li, for Mr. Nores duryng hys 
. ly ff for hys good servys done unto the kyng's hyhnes, 
for the wych I have always loyyd him, and for the 
singuler good hert and ni3mde;i that I knowe he hath 
cdweys borne unto me, I am content to make out my 
grawnte upon the same, ye & it wol please the kyng 
to inlarge it one c. li. more; and semblably cause Mr. 
Thesauror hath the kepyng of the k3^g's game nygh 
to Femam, I wold gladly, if it may stand with the 
kyng's pleasure, grawnte unto hym the reversion of 
such thinges as the Lord Sands hath there, with the 
ampUacon of the fee above that wych is oldely ac* 
customyd, to the sum of xl. li. by the yeere; & also 
I wold gladly geve to Mr. Comptroller a lycke fee, & 
to Mr. Russel, another of xx.^ li. by the yeere. Be-- 
myttyng thys and all other my sutes to the kyng^a 
hyhnes pleasure, mercy, pity, & compassion, moste 
holly. Beseechyng hys Hyhnes so nowe gracyously 
to ordyr me, that I may from hensforth serve God 
quietly Sc with repose of mynd, & pray as I am most 
bowndyn, for the conservacyon 8c increase of his 
most nobyll and royal astate. And Urns with my 
dayly prayer I byd yow farewell. From Asher hastely 
with the rude hand and moste hevy herte of 
Yowr assuryd frende & bedysman,. 




Cardinal Wolsey to Dr. Stephen Gardener 

This Letter was also commtmicated toMr. Grove by Mr. Littletoii. 
It is now in the Ashmole Museum at Oxford. 


Aftyr my moste herty commendacions I pray yow 
at the reverens of €rod to helpe^ that expedicion be 
Hsyd in my persuts, the delay wherof so replen- 
yshyth my herte with hevynes, that I can take no 
reste; nat for any vayne fere^ but onely for the 
miserable condycion, that I am presently yn» and 
lyclyhod to contynue yn the same, onles that yow, 
in whom ys myn assnryd truste, do help & releve me 
therin; For fyrst, contynuyng here in this mowest 8c 
corrupt ayer, beyng enteryd into the passyon of the 
dropsy* Cum prostatione appetitus et contintio insommo. 
I cannat lyve: Wherfor of necessyte I must be re- 
Hiovyd to some other dryer ayer and place, where 1 
may have comodjrte of physycyans. Secondly, hav-- 
yng but Yorke, wych is now decayd, by viii C. li, 
by the yeere, I cannot tell how to lyve, 8c kepe the 
poore nombyr of folks wych I nowe have, my howsys 
ther be in decay, and of evry thyng mete for hows- 
sold onprovydyd and fumys^hyd. I have non appa- 
rell for my how^s ther, nor money to bring me 
thether, nor to lyve wyth tyl the propysse tyme of 


the yeere shall come to remove thether. Thes thyngs 
consyderyd, Mr. Secretary, must nedys make me yn 
agony and hevynes, myn age therwith & sycknes 
consyderyd, alas Mr. Secretary, ye with other my 
lordys shewyd me, that I shnld otherwyse be £ur- 
nyshyd & se]^ unto, ye knowe in your lemyng & 
consyens, whether I shuld forfet my spiritaalties of 
Wynchester or no, Alas! the qualjrtes of mjn of- 
fencys consydeiyd, with the gret punishment & losse 
of goodes that I have sustaynyd, owt to move pety- 
fuU hertys; and the moste nobyl kyng, to whom yf 
yt wold please yow of .your cherytable goodnes to 
shewe the premyses aft3rr your accustomable wysdome 
& dextery te, yt ys not to be dowbtyd, but his higfanes 
wold have consyderacyon & compassyon, ag^ment- 
yng my lyvyng, & appoyntyng such thyngs as shuld 
be convenient for my furniture, wych to do shalbe 
tp the kyng's ' high honor, mery te, & dyschaxge of 
c(msyens, & to yow gret prayse for the bryngyng of 
the same to passe for your olde brynger up and lov* 
ying frende, Thys kyndnes exibite from the kyng's 
hyghnes shal prolong my lyff for some lytyl whyl, 
thow yt shall nat be long, by the meane whereof hys 
grace shal take profygtt, & by my deth non» What 
ys yt to hys hyhnes to give some conv^iyent porcion 
pwt of Wynchester, & Seynt Albons, hys ^race tak* 
yng with my herty good wyl the resydew/ Bemem* 
ber, good Mr. Secretary, my poore degi:e, & what 


servys I have done, and liow nowe approchyng to deih, 
I must begyn the world ageyn. I besech you ther- 
fore, mo^yd with pity and compassyon 8oker me in 
thys my calamyte^ and to your power wych I knowe 
y» gret^releve me; and I wyth all mj^ shal not o^ely 
aacryibe thys my relef unto yow^ but also praye to 
God fi»r the increase of your honor, & as my poore 
shal increase, so I shal not fayle to requjrte your 
kyndnes* Wryttyn hastely at Aisber, with the rude 
and shackyng hand of 

Your dayly bedysman. 

And assuryd firend, 

To ike ryg^t hommtble 
and my assuryd frende 
Mastyr Secretary. 


Cardinal fVolsey to Secretary Gardener, 

Deairing him to write to him and g^ve him aji accoimt of the king's 
intentions with regard to him. (From Strype,) 

Myn own good mastyr secretary, albeit I am in 
such altiration and indisposition of my hede & body> 
by the meansse of my dayly sorowe & hevynesse, 
that I am fen omit to writ any long Ires. Yet my 


trastyng frend^ Thomas Crowmwel, retomyng & re-*^ 
paryng unto yow, I cowde nat forbere, but brively to 
put yow in remembrance: how that aftyr the consul- 
tation takyn by the kyngs hyghnes opon myn order- 
yng^ which ye supposyd shulde be on Sunday was 
sevennyght^ ye wolde not fayle to advertyse me at 
the length of the specialties thereof. Of the wch to 
here & have knowleg, I have & dayly do looke for. 
I pray yow therefore at the reverens of God^ & of 
this holy tyme, & as ye love & tendyr my poore ly^, 
do so moche as to vnrytt onto me your seyd Ires: 
wherby I may take some cumfort & rest: nat 
dowting but your hert is so gentyl 8c pityfnl^ that 
havyng knowleg in what agony I am yn, ye wole 
take the payne to send onto me your seyd consolla- 
tory Ires. Wherby ye shal nat onely deserve toward 
God, but also bynde me to be as I am, your con- 
tynual bedysman. Wrytten this momyng at Asher^ 
with the rude hand and sorroweful hert of yours with 
hert & prayer. 

T. Cardinalis Ebor. Miserrimus. 

To the right honorable 
Mr. Secretary. 



Cardinal Wolsey to Secretary Gardener^ 
To draw up his pardon. (From Strype.) 

Myn ownb good Mastyr Secretary, 
Aftyr my moste herty recommendatioiis, withlycke 
thanks for your goodnes towards me, thes shal be ta 
advertyse yow that I have beyn informyd by my 
trusty frend Thomas Cromwell that ye have signifyed 
onto hym to my syngular consolation how that the 
kynges highnes movyd with pety & compassyon, & of 
hys excellent goodnes & cheryte consyderyng the 
lamentable condition & stat that I stand yn, hath 
wyllyd yow with other lords and mastyrs of hys 
honorable cownsell, to intende to the perfyghtyng & 
absolvyng without further tract or, delay of myn end 
& appo3mtement; and that my pardon shulde be made 
in the moste ample forme that my counsell cowde 
devise. For thys the kyngs moste gracyous remem-^ 
brance, procedyng of hymself, I accompt my sylf not 
onely moste bowndyn to serve & pray for the preserva* 
tion of hys moste royal majestic, but also thancke God 
that ye have occasion given onto you to be a solly- 
cyter & setter forth of such thynges a$ do & shall 
conserve my seyde ende. In the makyng & com- 
powndyng wherof myn assured truste is, that ye wole 
shewe the love & affection wych ye have & here 


towards me, your olde lover & frende: so declaryng 
your self therin, that ibe worlde may parceyve that 
by your good meanys the kjmg ys tiie bettyr goode 
lorde unto me; & that nowe ne^dy in maner comyng 
to the world, ther maye be such respect had to my 
poore degree, olde age & longe contynued servys, as 
shal be to the kyngs hygh honor & your gret prayse 
& laude. Wych ondowtydly shall folowe yf ye op- 
tinde yowre benyvolens towards me, & men p^ceire 
that by your wisdome & dexteiite I shalbe relevyd, & 
in this my calamyte holpen. At the reverens theve^ 
fore of God myn owne goode Mr. Secretary, & refugy, 
nowe set to your hande, that I may come to a lauda- 
ble end & repos, seyng that I may be fumyshyd aftyr 
such a sorte & maner as I may ende my short tyme 
& lyff to the honor of Crydtes chuidie & the prince. 
And besides my dayly prayer & true hert I shal so 
requyte' your kyndnes, as ye shall have cause to 
thyncke the same to be wdl imployde, lycke as my 
seyd trusty frende shall more amply shewe onto 
you. To whom yt may please yow to geve finne 
credens and lovyng audyens. And I shall pray fer 
the increase of your honour. Wryttyn at Assher 
with the tremyllyng hand & bevy hert of your assuryd 
lover & bedysman 


To the ryght honorable and 
my singular good frende 
Mayster Secretary. 



Cardinal Wohey to Secretary Gardener, 

JMbnng Idiii to fkyaat fStue cause of the Provost of Bererly, and to 
intercede wiib the king for bim and bis colleges. (Fivm Strype^) 

Myne awne gbntil Maister Secret a&y. 
After my mooste herty recommendatioiis, these shal 
be to thanke you for the goeate humamte^ lovyng 8c 
gentil recola, that ye have made unto the poore 
Provost of Beverly: & spedaly, for that ye have in 
such wise addressed hym unto the kings highneis 
presence, that his grace not onely hath shewed unto 
hym, that he is his goode & gracious lorde, but also 
that it hath pleased hys majeste to admitte & ac* 
cepte hym as his poore orator & scholer. Wherby 
both he & I accompte our selfs so bounden unto 
youy that we cannot telle how to requite this your 
gratitude & kyndenes ; mooste hartely praying you 
to contynue in your good favour.towards hym, & to 
take hym 8c his pore causis into your patrocynye fit 
protection. And, as myne assured expectation 8c 
trust is, to remember the poor state 8l condition 
that I stond in, 8c to be a meane to the kyags high<- 
ness for my relefe in the same. In doyng wherof ye 
shal not onely deserve thanks of God, but also 


declare to yonr perpetual laad and prayse^ that ye 
beyng in auctorite^ have not forgoten yonr olde mais- 
ter & firynde. And in the wey of charite^ & for the 
love that ye here to virtue^ & ad bona studio, be meane 
to the kyngs higfanes for my poore college^^; and 
specially for the college of Oxford. Suffer not the 
things^ which by your greate lemyng^ stndie^ coun- 
saile & travaile^ hath bene erected, founden, & with 
good statutes. & ordinances, to the honour of God, 
increase of vertue & lemyng established, to be dis- 
solved or dismembred. Ye do know, no man better, 
to what use the monasteries, suppressed by the popis 
licence, the kyngs consente concurryng with the same, 
& a pardon for the premoneri^ be converted. It is 
nat to be doubted, but the kyngs highnes, of his hi^ 
vertue & equite, beyng informed how every thing is 
passed, his mooste gracious license & consente (as 
is aforesaid) adhibited therunto, wol never go aboute 
to dissolve the said incorporations or bodyes, wherof 
so greate benefite & commodite shal insue unto his 
realme & subjects. Superfluities, if any such shal 
be thought & founden, may be resecat; but to de- 
stroy the hole, it were to greate pitie. 

Eftsones therefore, good Maister Secretarie, I be- 
seche you to be good maister & patrone to the said 

' Premumre. 


colleges: '^ Et non sinas opus manuum tuamm perire, 
aat ad nihilnm redige/' Thus doyng^ both I^ & they 
shal not onely pray for you^. but in such wise de* 
serve your paynes^ as ye shal have cause to thinke 
the same to be wel bestowed & imployed^like as this 
present berer shal more at the large shewe unto you* 
To whom it may please the same to geve firme 
credence. And thus mooste hartely fare ye weL 
From Sothewell^ the xxiij*** day of July. 

Tour lovyng frende, 


To the right honorable & my 
singular good frende M' 
Doctor Stephyns, Secreto- 
ry to the Kings Highnes. 


Cardinal Wolsey to Secretary Gardener^ 

Desiring his favour in a suit against him for a debt of 700f. by 
one Strangwish. (From Strype,) 

Myne awne good Maister Secretary, 
After my mooste harty recommendations, these 
shal be to desire, & mooste effectuelly to pray you 
to be good maister & friende unto me, concemyng 


the uncharitable sate of Strai^wishe for vij C Ii;» 
which he pietendith that I sholde owe unto hym, 
for the ward of Bowes. And albeit there was at his 
fyrste comyng to my service, by our mntaal con* 
sents, a perfede end made between hym & me for 
the same, yet nowe digressyng therfrom, perceyvyi^ 
that I am oat of favoor, destitute of socour, & in 
cahunite, he not onely newly demaundjrth the said 
vij C Ii.bat also hath made complaint unto the kynga 
highnes, surmittyng, that I shulde, contrary to jus- 
tice, deteyne from hym the said vij C li. For the 
redresse whereof, it hath pleased the kyngs majeste 
to direct his mooste honorable letters unto me; the 
contents wherof I am sure be nat unknown unto 
you. And insuing the purporte therof, & afore the 
delyyere of the same thre days by past, notwith- 
standing my greate necessite & poverte, onely to he 
out of his exclamation & inquietnes, I have writ- 
ten to my trusty friende, M' Cromwel, to make cer- 
teyn re^onable offires unto hym for that intent and 
purpose; moost hartely beseching you to helpe, that 
upon declaration of such things, as upon my part 
shal be signified unto you by the said Maister Crom- 
well, some such end, by your friendely dexterite, 
may bee made betwixt us, as shal accorde with good 
congruence, & as I may supporte 8c be hable (myne 
other debts e^d diarges considered) to beie. In the 


doyng wherof^ ye shall bynde inie to be your dayly 
bedesman^ as knoweth God, who alwayes preserve 
you. From Sothewell, the xxv* day of August* 
Tours with hert & prayer, 

T. car"* ebor. 

To my right entierly welbiloved 
firende M' Stephen Gardener, 
Secretory to kyngs higbnes. 


Lettre de Monsieur de Bellay Evesqtie de Bayonne d 
M' le Grant Maistre. De Londres le xvij Oct. 

[MSS. de BETHUNE BIBLIOTH. DV ROY. V. 8603. f. 113.] 

MoNSEiGNBUR, depuis les lettres du Roy & les 
aultres vostres que je pensoye sur Theure euvoyer, 
cette depesche a est6e retard^ jusques k present; 
parce qu'il a fallu faire & refaire les lettres que je 
Yous euToye tout plein de fois, & pour ce aller & 
venir souvent, tant les Dues m^mes qu'aultres de ce 
eonsell ^ Windesore, dont toute k cette heure Us les 
m'oht enYoy6es en la forme que Verrez par le double 
dlceux. Ds me prient le plus fort du mbnde de 
£Eiire qu'on ne trouye mauvais si en ces exp6ditions, 
& mesmement en ce que touche le principal de la 


depesche^ je ne suis de tout satisfait comme je voul-^ 
droye^ & aussi eulx mesmes^ 43'excasans que leur 
mani^re de n^gocier envers leur maistre n'est encore 
bien dress^e^ mais pour radvenir doibvent faire mer- 
veilles^ & en baillent de si grands asseurances & si 
bien juries, que je ne puis me garder de les croire; je 
n*ay point refreschy mes lettres au Roy, car je ne 
voy point qu'il y en ait mati^re. 

Au demourant, j'ay est6 voir le Cardinal en ses 
ennuis, oil j'ay trouy6 les plus grand exemple de 
fortune que on ne scauroit voir, il m'a remonstr^ 
son cas en la plus mauvaise rh6torique que je viz 
jamais, car cueur & paroUe luy failloient entifere- 
ment; il a bien plour6 & pri6 que le Roy & Madame 
Youlsissent avoir piti6 de luy, slls avoyent trouv6 
qu'il leur eust guards promesse de leur estre bon 
serviteur autant que son honneur & povoir se y 
est peu estendre, mais il me a la fin laiss6 sans me 
pouvoir dire autre chose qui vallist mieux que son. 
visage, qui est bien descheu de la moiti6 de juste 
pris: & vous promets, Monseigneur, que sa fortune 
est telle que ses ennemis, encore qu'Qs soyent An- 
gloys, ne se scauroyent guarder d'en avoir piti6, ce 
nonobstant ne le laisseront de le poursuivre jusques 
au bout, & ne voyt de moyen de son salut, aussi ne 
fais-je sinon qu'il plaise au Roy & k Madame de Fay- 
der. De legation, de sceau d'auctorit6, de credit il n'en 
demande point, il est prest de laisser tout jusques k 


la chemise^ & que on lelaisse yivre en nng hennitage^ 
ne le tenant ce Roy en sa mal gr&ce : Je Tay reconfort^ 
au mieulx qne j'ay pen, mais je n'y ay seen faire 
grant chose: Depuis par un en qui il se fie, il m'a 
mand^ ce qu^U vouldroit qn'on feist pour luy de la 
plus grand partie, luy yoyant qu'il ne tonchoit aa 
Men des affaires du Roy qu'on luy accordast la plus 
raisonnable chose qui demande, c'est que le Roy 
escripvist h ce Roy qu'il est un grand bruit de par 
delk qu'il Fait recull^ d'autour de luy, & fort esIong6 
de la bonne gr&ce, en sorte qu'on diet qu'il doibve 
estre destruict, ce que ne pense totalement estre 
comme on le diet; toutefois pour la bonne fraternity, 
qu'ils out ensemble, & si grant communication de 
tons leurs plus grans affaires, I'a bien voulu prier de 
y avoir 6gard, affin qu'il n'en entre souldainement 
quelque mauvaise fantasie enyers ceulx qui ont yeu 
qu'en si grant solemnity & auctorit6, il ait servy 
d'instrument en cette perp6tuelle amiti^ tant re- 
nomm6e par toute la Chr^tient^; & que si d'adven- 
ture il estoit entr6 en quelque malcontentement de 
luy, il veiiille ung pen mod6rer son affection, comme 
il est bien sftr que luy youldront conseiller ceulx qui 
sont autour de sa personne & au maniement de ses 
plus grandes affaires. Voil^, Monseigneur, la plus 
raisonable de toutes ses demandes, en laquelle ne 
me veulx ing6rer de dire mon advis, si diray-je bien 

VOL. 11. T 


qu'il n'y a personne ici qui deust prendre k mal telle 
lettre; & mesment la oil Us consid^reront, comme de 
facit ils font,qu*iI sont forces de prendre & tenir pins 
que jamais votre party, & d'advantage asseureray 
bien que la plus grant prinse qn'ils ayent peft avoir 
suz luy du commencement, & qui plus leur a serri a 
le Iwrouiller envers le Roy, a est6 qu'il d6clara a ma 
venue decza trop ouvertement de vouloir aller h 
Cambray, car les aultres persuaderent au maistre ce 
que c'estoient, seulement pour 6viter d'estre h Tex- 
p6dition du manage, & outre cela vous promets que 
sans luy les aultres mectoyent ce Roy en ung terrible 
train de rompre la pratique de paix dont vous es- 
cripvis quelque mot en ce temps-la, mais j'en laissay 
dix fois en la plume, voyant que tout estoit rabill6, 
je vous les diray estant Ik, & je suis seur que le 
trouverez fort estrange: H me semble. Monsieur, 
que k tout cela, & plusieurs aultres choses que bien 
entendez de vous-mesmes, on doibt avoir quelque 
6gard, vous donnerez, s'il vous plaist, advis au Roy & 
k Madame de tout cecy, aflin qu'ils advisent ce qull 
leur plaira en faire, s'ils pensent n'empirer par cela 
leurs affaires, je croy que voulentiers, outre ce que 
sera quelque charity, ils vouldront qu' on cognoisse 
qu'ils ayent retir6 ung* leur aiFectionn6 serviteur, & 
tenu pour tel par chescun, des portes d'enfer; mais 
sur tout, Monseigneur, il desire que ce Roy ne con- 
noisse qu'ils en ayent est6 requis, & que il les en ay 


M% ifequerir en fa^on da moode, cehi Fadbeveroil 
4'affollet; car pwi Y(m^ dire le vmy^ k hormis tgute 
Hffection^ je yous asseure qae 1« pins grant piinse 
que ses ennemis ayent ene sur Iny, outre ceile du 
mariage^ ce a esii de persuader ce Boy que il avoU 
tousdours eu en temps dd paix et de gnennd intelU' 
gence secrette h Madame, de laquelle ladite guerre 
durant il avoit eu des grants presens, qui fizreiKt 
cause que Sufifolc estant k Montdidier^ il ne le se- 
courut d'argent comme il debyoit, dont avint que 
il ne prit Paris; mais ils en parleut en roreille de ce 
propos, afin que je n'en soy adrerty. Quiiiit Bxsx* 
dits presens, il esp^re que Madame ne U imyra <A 
il en sera parl6, de toutes aultres chooses il s^en re* 
commande en sa bonne grkte. La fantaisie de ces 
seigneurs est que luy mort ou min^, il detfi^ent in- 
conttnent icy Festat de FEglise, & prendront tons 
leurs biens, qu'il seroit ja besoing que je misse en 
cbifire^ car ils le orient en plaine table; je croy qu'ils 
feront de beaux miracles, si m*a diet vostre grant 
prophite au visaige brons^, que ce Roy ne vivra 

gueres plus que au quel, comme yous 

s^avez, k ce que je voy par ses escriptures, il n'a 
baJll^ terme que de la monstre de May. Se ne veulx 
oublier k vous dire que si le Roy & Madame veullent 
faire quelque chose pour le L^gat, il faudroit se 
faaster, encores ne seront jamais icy ses lettres que il 



n'ait perdu le sceau, toutefois il ne pense plus k 
celsi, elles serviront pour le demourant, aussi venant 
icy mon successeur^ comme chascun s'attend qu'il 
yiendra dans peu des jours^ ils luy donnassent charge 
d*en parler; le pis de son mal est que Mademoiselle 
de Boulen a faict promettre k son amy que il ne 
Tescoutera jamais parler; car'elle pense bien qu^il 
ne le pourroit garder d'en avoir piti^. 

Monseigneur, tout ce qui sera de bon en tout ce 
discours, vous le s^aurez prendre comme tel; s'il y 
aura riens qui semble party de trop d'affection, je 
Yous supplie m'ayder k en excuser^ & qu^il soit pris 
de bon part, car Ik ok la mati&re seroit mauvaise si 
yous assureray-je bien que I'intention n*est telle, & la 
dessus est bien temps pour vous & pour moy que je 
facze fin & la pr6sente, me recommande humblement 
en vostre bonne gr&ce, & pryant nostre Seigneur 
qu'il YOUS doint bonne Yie & longue. 

Vostre humble Serviteur, 


EYesque de Bayonne. 

De Londres, le xyij d'Octobre. 
k Monsiegneur 

Le Grant Maiatre & Marechal de France. 



Thomoi Alward to Thomas Cromwell. A. D. 1529* 

[MS. COTTON. VITELLIU8 D. XII. fol. 173. (Mg^ 

'The following Letter (says Mr. Ellis), thongh mutilated, pre- 
sents a genuine pictore of one of the last interviews with which 
Wolsey was favoured by his Sovereign. It is dated on the 23f 
of September; sixteen days after which the King's attorney pre- 
sented the indictment against him in the Court of King's Bench 
upon the Statute of Provisors. 

«< Thomas Alward, the writer of this Letter, appears to have 
been the Keeper of Wolsey's Wardrobe. He has been already 
incidentally named in the Letter which relates to the founda- 
tion of Ipswich College/' 

Maistsr Cromwbl^ 
In my mooste hartiest wise I [commende me] unto 
you; adyertisyng the same that I haye Ae\y\vered 
your Ires] unto my lordis grace who did immediatly 
rede oyer [the samel ^^^ ^^ redyng wherof his grace 

did put theyin in and so kepte 

theym always close to hym self. Th[fs I note] unto 
you, bicause I neyer sawe hym do the like bifb[rc 
time] the which your lettres his grace commaunded 

me And first, the same hertely 

thankyth you for your . . adyertysement made 
unto hym from tyme to tyme [ofsoche] things as ye 
haye written unto his grace wherin I know \ye have] 


don anto his grace singular pleasur and good service; 
and as [for] the vain bruts which goth against my 
lords [grace] I assar you as fer as may apper unto 
my said [iQrd and] other thut be his servaimts^ 
they be marvailous f^e, . . and gretely I do 
mervaile wherof the same shiil[(?e arise] for I assur 
you that in this vacacion tyme [dyvers] lettres wer 
■written by the kyngs commaundment^from [Mr. Ste-] 
vyns unto my sc^id lord^ by the which his adT[i3€] 
and opinion was. at sundry tjrmes desired ... in 
the kyngs causis and affaires^ unto the which lettres 
{aufiswer] was made from tyme to tyme^ as well by my 
lords [wry]tyng as also by the sendyng of his ser- 
vaunts to the [courte with] instructions by mouth to 
the kyng's highnes as the [mater] and ckse did re- 
quir. Over this the noblemen and gentry [as well] ih 
my lords goyng to Ihe courte as also in his retoume 
irom [the] same dyd mete and incounter hym at 
many places gently [and] humaynly as they wer 
wonte to do. On Sonday last my loids grace, with 
the Iiegat Campegius cam onto the eourte at Grene- 
[tmche] wher they wer honorably veoejrved and ac- 
companyed with sundry of the kings counsaile and 
servannts, and so brought bifor masse onto the kii^^s 
presence, who graciously and benigly after the ac- 
custumed goodnes of his highnes, with very familiar 
and loving acountenance did welcome theym. And 


after ccmmmnication and talkyng awhiles witii my 
liorde Campegios^ his grace talked a 'grete while 
with my lorde a parte, which don, they departed all 
to geder in to chapeL And immediatly after dyner 
my lords grace went again unto the kyngs highnes 
beyng then in his ptyvie chamber wher they wer 
commonyng and talkyng to geder at the leeste for 
the space of ij, houres, no person beyng present, and 
a Mende of mjrne beyng of the priye chamber told 
me at my lords departar that tyme 6om thens ther 
was as good and as familiar acconntynannce shewed 
and used betwene theym as ever he sawe in his life 
heretofor. This don my lords grace with the legat 
retoumed unto theyr logyng at Maister Empson's 
place. On Monday in the motnyng my lord leving 
the legat at his logyng went again unto the kyngs 
grace, and after long talkyng in his priyie chamber 
to geder, the kyng, my lord, and all the hole coim- 
saile sate to geder all that for'none aboute the kyngs 
matiers and affaires. In the after none, my lords 
grace having then with hym the Legat Campegius, 
went to the kyng's grace, and after talkyng and com- 
munication had a long whilis with the legat a parte 
they both toke ther leve of the kyngs highnes in as 
good fascion and maner, and with asmoche gentil- 
nes, as ever I saw bifor. This don, the kyngs grace 
went huntyng. The legate retoumed to Maister 


Empson^ and my lords grace taried ther in connsafle 
til it was darke nyght. Further mbr my Lord of 
Suffolke^ my Lord of Rochford^ Maister Toke^ and 
Master Stevyns did as gently [iejhaye theymselfe^ 
with as moche observaunce and humy[/yfe to] my 
lords grace as ever I sawe theym do at any [tyme] 
tofor. What they here in ther ha3rts I knowe n[o^.] 

Of the premissis I have seen with myne ies; wherfor 
I boldely presnine and thinke that they be ferre 
[furth] oyerseen that sowth^ the said false and on- 
trewe reports: ascerteynyng you if ye coulde mazke 
som[e of the] chief stirrers therof ye shnlde do onto 
his grace [moche] pleasar. Assone as ye can spede 
your bysynes th[ere my] lord wolde be very glad of 
your retourne. My lord wilbe on Monday next at 
London. And the Legat [Cam]pegius shal departe 
shortely oiite of Englonde. Alnd thus] makyng an 
ende I commit you to the tuicion and ^widance of] 
Almyghty God. From Saint Albons the xxiij^ S[g>-] 

All the gentilmen of my lords chamber with the . 
.... .^ of commendith them hartely unto you. 
Towrs to my lytle [power] 

* soweth. * /. rest thereof. 


Fisher, Bishop of Rochester. 

Bishop Fidher's opposition to Henry's divorce^ as 
noticed by Cavendish at p. 157, subsequently cost 
him his head. Besides his letter to Wolsey main- 
taining the validity of the marriage with Catherine, 
published by Fiddes in his Appendix to the Life of 
Wolsey, and in Collier's Ecclesiastical History, vol. 
2 Records. He wrote a larger discourse in Latin 
^'De Causa Matrimonii Regis AngliBe," which was 
long thought to exist only in MS. But in a late sale 
by public auction in London, of Don Jos Antonio 
Conde's Library, a printed copy was purchased for 
Mr. Heber, which appears to have issued from the 
press at Alcala (Complutum) in Spain. The printer 
of which, says the manuscript copy was given him 
by the Archbishop of Toledo. It is probable that 
the Spanish agents in England contrived to obtain 
a copy and sent it to the emperor. It would not 
have been allowed to issue from ihe press in Eng- 
land. It is remarkable that Ribadineira in his His- 
toria Ecclesiastica de Inglaterra, Madrid, 1588, men- 
tions that Fisher presented his book to the legates. 
'^ Los que por parte de la Reyna tratavan este negocio 
eran los mas graves y doctos Teologos y Petlados 


de todo el Beyno y entre ellos Gulielmo Varamo 
Arf opispo Cantuariense y primado de Inglaterra, y 
otros cinco Obispos de grande autoridad. Pero el 
que mas se mostrava era Juan Fishero Obispo Rof- 
fenae, yaa!on por derto e^^emplar^ y no sotamente 
lumbrera del reyno de Inglaterra, sino de toda la 
christianidad, espejo de saintidad, sal del pueblo, y 
verdadero Doctor de la Yglesia, El qual salio en 
publico, yprefentd a los Legados uN Libro doctissimo 
que avia escrito en dEFBKSIon del matrimonio dd 
Reyy de h Meyna^ y amonestoles con razonamiento 
gravissimo que no t)uscassen dificoltades donde no 
las avia, ni pcrmitiessen que se pervirtie^e la ver- 
dad cla^ra y manifiesta, de la sagrada Escritura, y se 
debilitasse la fuerf a de las leyes ecclesiasticas que 
en esta causa eran evldentes, y estavan tan bien 
entendidas. Que pensassen y considerass^ aten- 
taMente los danos innumerables que deste divbrcio 
se podian segoir: el odio entre el Rey Enrique y 
Carlos Emperiador: las parcialidades de los princi- 
pes que los seguirian: las guerras crueles de fuera y 
dentro del reyno: y lo que le mas importava, las 
dissenSiones en materia de la F^, s^ismas, heregias, 
y sectas infinitas. To dize por aver estudiado esta 
materia^, y gastado en ella mucho tiempo y trabajo, 
odo afirmar que no ay en la tierra potestad que pueda 
deshdzer este matrimonio, ni desatar lo que Dio at6« 


Y esto que digo bo solamente lo pruevo claramente 
£N BSTE LiBRO^ con los testimonias de irrefragable 
de la sagrada Escritura, y de los santos Doctores^ 
pero tambien estoy aparejado a defenderlo con el 
derramaioieQto de mi sangre: dis^olo Boffense, y 
como lo dixo^ assi cumplio, Airiendo bablado de 
eBta manem aquel yaron illustre por la fama de su 
doctrina^ ^^^ceJleute por la eantidad de la vida^ ad- 
mirable por la dignidad de Perlado^ y por sus canas 

A manuscript copy of Fisher's book is said to 
be among thie books presented by the Dnke of Nor- 
folk to the Royal Society. We may hope to hate 
all that relates to this venerable prelate iii a niore 
tangible form when the Rev. John Lewis's Life of 
him shall be given to the world: we have the satis- 
fkction to add that it has been some time at press, 
under the editorial care of the Rev. Hieodore Wil- 
liams of Hendon^ and cannot fell to ptove a vtiluable 
addition to Ecclesiaatical Biography^ 


The Instrument of the King's gift to the Cardinal after 
his forfeiture by the premumre, which so much revived 
his hopes, is printed by Rymer and by Fiddes. The 
following is the Schedule appended to it. v. Life p. 224. 

The Money^ Goods^ and Cattells^ given by the King's 
Grace to the Lorde Caidinall, whereof mention is made 
in the Kinged Lettres Patentes hereunto annexed. 

Fyrste in Bedy Money, mm m /i. 

Item, in Plate, Nyne Tfaowsand Fyve Hundred 
Threscore Fyve oz. dim. quarter, at iij' viij' the oz. 
amounteth to mdcclii li. iij' viii'. 

Item, Dyyers Apparell of Houshold, as Hangyngs, 
Beddyng, Napry, and other thyngs, as appereth by 
the Inventorie of the same— amountyng in Value by 
Estimation, nccc li. 

Item, In Horses and Greldyngs Ixxx with their 
Apparel, valued by Estimation, cl li. 

Item, in Mules for the SaddeU vi. with their Appa- 
reU, valued by Estimation, lx li. 


Item, in Mules for Carriage yi with their Apparell, 
Talued by Estimation, XL lu 

Item, in Lyng on thowsand valued by Estimation, 
XL U. 

Item, in Cod and Haberden yiij c valued by Esti- 
mation^ XL /{. 

Item, in Salt viii Waye valued by Estimation, x L 

Item, in Implements of the Ksrtchen as Potts, 
Pannes, Spitts, Peawter Vessell, and other things 
necessarie for the same, valuedby Estimation, lxxx /. 

Item, Lii. Oxen valued by Estimation, lxxx /. 

Item, in Muttons lxx valued by Estimation xuL 

Item, the AppareD of his Body, valued by Estima- 
tion, cccZ. 

Sunmia, vi M. ccc. Ixxiv. /. iijf viif ob. 


A Memoryall of suche Communication as my Lorde 
Legatts grace had with the Qtienes Almoner. 


This intereflting paper is published in iiddes, from the cmnmimi- 
cation of the learned and Reverend Mr. Baker. It is so neces- 
sary a supplement to the very interesting interview of the two 
Cardinals with Kafherine^ given by Cavendish, that I could not 
resolve to withhold it from the reader, who may not chance to 
have ready access to Dr. Fiddes' ponderous volume. 

Fyrst my lordes grace taking for introdwtioii & 
commencement of his graces purposes & deryses^ 
excogitate by the same for the totall extermination 
of suche heresies as daily encreased in Cambrydge: 
& that his grace thought more convenyent the same 
to be done by the commyssaries then the Bysshops 
of Rochester or Elie^ shewed his pleasure & deter- 
mination was to send him thjrther, as well for that he 
was of good reputation & credytt there, beinge a M*' 
of a colledge in the same^ as also for that he had in 
tymes passed used hym in lyke busyness. To which 
the said M' Almoner^ fyrst excusing the remission 
of his wonte and bounde offyce & dewtie in yysitinge 
his grace^ & most humblie beseching the same not to 
impute y t as preceding of any alienation of his trewe 


hart & deyotion he bare unto the aaine^ answered, 
that he woold most gladly tailce upon him the said 
province & jomey; desyringe nevertheles his gruoe 
that he might defer the same untyll 20 dayes were 
past & expired, in which space he might well per* 
forme his residence at Wyndesore. Unto which pety-* 
cyon his grace condescendyng, ft takynge the same 
as a full resolution in that behalfe, pretendinge also to 
have had noon other cause or matter unto him, fyn-^ 
ished that communicadon, and sodenly asked hym 
what tydyngs he had hard of late in the courtel — 

To this he answered, that he hard noon, but that 
yt was much bruted that a Legatt shuld come hyther 
into En^nd. — ^Whereuppon his grace inferred what 
the queue thought of his comynge, and for what {Kir- 

pose he should come? ^To this he said, that she 

was fully perswaded & believed that his comysge 
was only for the decision of the cause of matrimonie 
dependinge betweene her & the kinges highnes. 

Hereupon my lordes grace taking just occaaon 
further to entre in this mater, & fyrste makyng re- 
hersall of sondrie excellent ]i>enefitts with which his 
grace had indewed hym, to thend he shuld doo the 
kings highnes trewe & faithfuU service, & sithe ad- 
juring him upon his fidelitie, his othe, & sub sigillo 
coftfessi&ms, and suche other obtestations, to conceale 
& kepe secrete whatsoever his grace shuld then com- 


municate unto hym, and never to piopale the saxoe 
to any man Ijrvyng, oonles he had expiesse com- 
mandement by the kyngs highnes or his grace so to 
doo^ desyred hym that he wold faithfiilly entierly 
& hooly declare unto his grace all & singnler soche 
tUnges as he knewe.of the queues dysposicion^ minde, 
sayings^ purpose & intent in this mattier* 

To this the said M' Almoner fyrst alleging & de- 
clairing of how singuler and perfytt devocyon he was. 
towards the kyngs hyghnes and my lords grace^ & 
that he wold not oonly be moost redy to execute 
his commandements^ but also to kepe secrete suche 
things as his grace shuld wyll him so to doo: an- 
swered^ that he hard the queue oft sale that yf in 
this cause she myght attaine & injoye her natnrall 
defence & justice^ she distrusted nothing butt yt 
should taike suche effecte as shuld be acceptable 
both to God & man. And that for theese causes: — 

Fyrst for that it was in the ieies of God moost 
{daine & evydent that she was never knowen.of 
Prince Arthure. Secondly, for that neyther of the 
judges were competent, being bothe the kings subjects, 
ben^ced within his realme, & delegate from the pope 
at the contemplation of the king, she being never 
hard, ne admytted to her defence. Thirdly, for that 
she ne had ne myg^t have within this realme any 
indifferent counsaile. Fynally, for that she had in 


Spaine two bulles^ the oone beinge latter daite than 
the other^ but bothe of sache effycacie & strengthen 
as sbulde sone remove all objections & cavyllations 
to be maide to thinfringing of th|s matrymonie. 

To this my lord's grace replying said, he marvelled 
not a lyttle of her so undyscrete ungodly purposes & 
sayings, which caused him to conceyve that she was 
neyther of suche perfection, ne vertne as he ha4 
thought in tymes past to have been in her: & so 
entering in refutation of all the premisses said: — 

Fyrst, where she saithe that she was not knowen 
of Prince Arthure, verely it is a weake & much un- 
sure grownde for her to leane unto, being so urgent 
& vehement presumptions non solum Juris, sed etiam 
de Jure to the contrarie, which and of congreuence 
ought to wey more in every equall judges brest then 
her symple allegation. For it cannot be denied but 
that bothe he & she was then of suche yers as was 
mete and hable to explete that act. It is also verey 
notarie, that thei dyd lye together, bothe here & in 
Waylles, by the space of three quarters of a yere. 
Furthermore, nothing was so muche desyred of bothe 
there parentes as the consummation of the said act: 
Insomuche that the counsailers of Ferdinando being 
resident here for that purposse dyd send the sheets 
th^i ley in, spotted with bloude, into Spaine, in full 
testimonye & jrouf therof. The counsaillers also 

VOL. II. u 


of bothe parties moste solemnelye swonie alfoarme 
in there treaties & saien that the matrymcmie was 
tonsummate by that act. Forthennore the comeB 
voyce through England is, that the said Prince Ar- 
thnre shnld olftymes boost oon momyng how ofte he 
had been the nyght before in the myddes of Spaing: 
Insotnnche that commotilye his so primature deathe 
was imputed onely to tdmio coUu. 

Fynally, King Henry Yllth of blessed memorie^ 
woM hot by certaine space after the deathe of the 
saide prince, permytte or suffer that the kings high- 
nes shuld injoye the name & tytle of Prince, ondy 
for that it was dowbted by such as than was most 
abowte the queue whether she was conceaved wyifc 
chylde or noo. And therefore these presumption 
beinge of suche sorte & nature, my lords grace said, 
the queue shuld do lyke neyther wyse ne vartuouse 
lady to adhere partinacely to the contrarie. 

To the seconde his grace replied, saying that if 
she shuld refuse and decline the judgment of those 
parsons unto whome the pope's holiness had dele- 
gated the examination of this cause, ^e shuld not 
do well, butt so doing rather incurr the indignacyon 
of the see apostollque, deserve the obloque & hatred 
of all good chossin people & ingenerate in there 
hartes a perpetuall hate & enmitie against her. f^ 
sythe the popes holines proceadythe in thys c^' 


mydsyon at the intercession or motion of no partie^ 
but Onely ex mero motu poitorali officio, & sith that 
his holines notwithstanding he being notoriously cer-- 
tyfied that they be the kings subjects, & benefyced 
within his realme hathe approved there parsons as 
nioost mete and worthie to have the hole decision of 
this cawse commytted unto them: with that also 
theire parsons be qualyfyed with so hyghe preemy-' 
nence & dignitie, as by the conmion lawe cannot be 
refused as suspect. Fynallie sythe the same par- 
sons being straitly commanded by the king's hygh- 
nes, all affection of mede or drede set apart, onely 
to attend, waye, regard & consyder the justyce of 
the cawse as they shall therunto answere on perell 
of there owne sowles 8c his dreadfnll indignacion, 
have no cawse which thei shuld varye or deflect 
their sentence otherwyse than justyce shall require, 
specially in a cawse of suche wayght & importance, 
8l wherin they for unrighteouse judgement shuld 
acquire nothing els but theire owne dampnation,eter- 
nail ignominie & indignation of theire prince: yf she 
shuld refiise suche parsons as suspect, it might well 
be saide that she geyeth tjrtles honour to the aucto* 
ritie of the churche, & that this realme were marre- 
louslie destytute of men of sincere leamyng & con* 
fldance, to the great slaundca: of the same. 
And fynally Us grace said, that yf this exceptioit 



of bothe parties moste solemnelye swonie Affsarme 
in there treaties & saien that the matrymonie was 
consummate by that act. Forthermore the comen 
voyce through England is, that the said Prince Ar* 
thnre shnld olftymes boost oon momyng how ofte he 
had been the nyght before in the myddes of Spaine: 
Insomnche that commotilye his so primature deathe 
was imputed onely to nimio coiiu. 

Fynally, King Henry Vllth of blessed memorie, 
woM not by certaine space after the deathe of the 
saide prince, permytte or suffer that the kings high- 
nes shuld injoye the name & tytle of Prince, onely 
for that it was dowbted by such as than was most 
abowte the queue whether she was conceaved wyth 
chylde or noo. And therefore these presumptions 
beinge of suche sorte & nature, my lords grace said, 
the queue shuld do lyke neyther wyse ne vartuouse 
lady to adhere partinacely to the contrarie. 

To the secotide his grace replied, saying that if 
she shuld refuse and decline the judgment of those 
parsons unto whome the pope's holiness had dele- 
gated the examination of this cause, ^e shuld not 
do well, butt so doing rather incurr the indignacyon 
of the see apostollque, deserve the obloque & hatred 
of all good chossin people & ingenerate in there 
hartes a perpetuall hate & enmitie against her. For 
sythe the popes holines proceadythe in thys com^ 


mydsyon at the intercession or motion of no partie^ 
but onely ex mero motu poitorali officio, & sith that 
his holines notwithstanding he being notoriously cer-' 
tyfied that they be the kings subjects, & benefyced 
within his realme hathe approved there parsons as 
moost mete and worthie to have the hole decision of 
this cawse commytted unto them: with that also 
theire parsons be qualyfyed with so hyghe preemy-^ 
nence & dignitie, as by the common lawe cannot be 
refused as suspect. Fynallie sythe the same par- 
sons being straitly commanded by the king's hygh- 
nes, all affection of mede or drede set apart, onely 
to attend, waye, regard & consyder the justyce of 
the cawse as they shall therunto answere on perell 
of there owne sowles & his dreadfcill indignacion, 
have no cawse which thei shuld varye or deflect 
their sentence otherwyse than justyce shall require, 
specially in a cawse of suche wayght & importance, 
&: wherin they for unrighteouse judgement shuld 
acquire nothing els but theire owne dampnation,eter- 
nail ignominie & indignation of theire prince: yf she 
shuld refuse suche parsons as suspect, it might well 
be saide that she geyeth tyilea honour to the aucto^ 
ritie of the churche, & that this realme were marye<> 
louslie destytute of men of sincere leamyng & con* 
science, to the great slaunder of the same. 
And fynally Us grace said, that yf this exception 



of bothe parties moste solemnelye swonie affsarme 
in there treaties & saien that the msiitymatde was 
consummate by that act. Forthermore the comen 
Yoyce through England is^ that the said Prince Ar^ 
thnre shidd oftymes boost don momyng how ofle he 
had been the nyght before in the myddes of Spaine: 
InsoMnche that commonlye his so primatute deathe 
was imputed onely to nimio coiiu. 

Fynaliy, Kilig Henry Vllth of blessed memorie^ 
woM hot by certaine space after the deathe of the 
saide prince^ permytte or suffer that the kings high- 
nes shuld injoye the name & tytle of Prince, ondy 
fbr that it was dowbted by such as than was most 
abowte the queue whether she was conceaved wyA 
chylde or noo. And therefore these presumptions 
beinge of suche sorte & nature, my lords grace said, 
th^ queue shuld do lyke neyther wyse ne vartuouse 
lady to adhere partinacely to the contrarie. 

To the secolide his grace replied, sajring that if 
she shuld refuse and decline the judgment of those 
parsons unto whotne the pope's holiness had dele- 
gated the examination of this cause, ^e shuld not 
do well, butt so doing rather incurr the indignacyon 
of the see apostolique, deserve the obloque & hatred 
of all good chossin people & ingenerate in there 
hartes a perpetuall hate & enmitie against her. For 
sythe the popes holines proceadythe in thys com^ 


mydsyon at the intercession or motion of no partie^ 
but dnely ex tnero motu pastorali officio, & sith that 
his holines notwithstanding he being notoriously cer-' 
tyfied that they be the kings subjects, & benefyced 
within his realme hathe approved there parsons as 
nioost mete and worthie to have the hole decision of 
this cawse commytted unto them: with that also 
theire parsons be qualyfyed with so hyghe preemy-* 
nence & dignitie, as by the common lawe cannot be 
refused as suspect. Fynallie sythe the same par* 
sons being straitly commanded by the king's hygh- 
nes, all affection of mede or drede set apart, onely 
to attend, waye, regard & consyder the justyce of 
the cawse as they shall theranto answere on perell 
of there owne sowles 8c his dreadfall indignacion, 
have no cawse which thei shuld varye or deflect 
their sentence otherwyse than justyce shall require, 
specially in a cawse of suche wayght & importance, 
& wherin they for unrighteouse judgement shuld 
acquire nothing els but theire owne dampnation,eter- 
nail ignominie & indignation of theire prince: yf she 
shuld refiise suche parsons as suspect, it might well 
be saide that she geyeth tjrtles honour to the aucto<* 
ritie of the churche^ & that this realme were marre- 
louslie destytute of men of sincere leamyng & c(hi* 
science, to Ae great slaundca: of the same* 
And fynally his grace said, that yf this exception 



of bothe parties moste solenmelye swonie affsarme 
in there treaties & saien that the mati^oiiie was 
(Donsmnmate by that act. Forihennore the comeB 
yoyce through England is^ that the said Prince Ar^ 
thnre shuld oftymes boost oon momyng how ofte he 
had b^h the nyght before in the myddes of Spaing: 
Insomnche that commonlye his so primatute deathe 
was imputed onely to mtnio coiiu. 

Fynidiy, King Henry Vllth of blessed memorie^ 
woM hot by certaine space after the deathe of the 
saide prince^ permytte or suffer that the kings high- 
nes shtild injoye the name & tytle of Prince, onely 
for that it was dowbted by such as than was most 
abowte the queue whether she was conceayed W3rth 
chylde or noo. And therefore these presumptions 
beinge of stiche sorte & nature, my lords grace said, 
th^ queue shuld do lyke neyther wyse ne yartuouse 
lady to adhere partinacely to the contrarie. 

To the secolide his grace replied, sajring that if 
she shuld refose and decline the judgm^t et those 
parsons unto whome the pope's holiness had dele- 
gated the examination of this cause, ^e shuld not 
do well, butt so doing rather incurr the indignacyon 
of the see apostollque, deserye the oMoque & hatred 
of all good chossin people & ingenerate in there 
hartes a perpetuall hate & enmitie against her. For 
sythe the popes holines proceadythe in thys com- 


mydsyon at the intercession or motion of no partie^ 
but onely ex mero motu pastorali officio, & sith that 
his holines notwithstanding he being notoriously cer-^ 
tyfied that they be the kings subjects, & benefyced 
within his realme hathe approved there parsons as 
moost mete and worthie to have the hole decision of 
this cawse commytted unto them: with that also 
theire parsons be qualyfyed with so hyghe preemy-^ 
nence & dignitie, as by the common lawe cannot be 
refused as suspect. Fynallie sythe the same par- 
sons being straitly commanded by the king's hygh- 
nes, all affection of mede or drede set apart, onely 
to attend, waye, regard & consyder the justyce of 
the cawse as they shall therunto answere on perell 
of there owne sowles & his dreadfuU indignacion, 
have no cawse which thei shuld yarye or deflect 
their sentence otherwyse than justyce shall require, 
specially in a cawse of suche wayght & importance, 
& wherin they for unrighteouse judgement shuld 
acquire nothing els but theire owne dampnation,eter- 
nail ignominie & indignation of theire prince: yf she 
shuld refuse suche parsons as suspect, it might well 
be saide that she geveth tytles honour to the aucto^ 
ritie of the churche, & that this realme were marve* 
louslie desty tute of men of sincere leamyng & con* 
science, to the great slaunder of the same. 
And fynally bis grace said^ that yf this exceptioit 


S90 QUBBN catherinb's objkotions, bto. 

of bothe parties moste solemnelye sworde AfSewnaae 
in there treaties & saien that the matrymonie was 
(Consummate by that act. Forihennore the comeB 
voyce through England is, that the said Prince Ar- 
tiiure shuld oftymes boost oon momyng how ofte he 
had b^en the nyght before in the myddes of Spaing: 
Insomuche that commotilye his so primature deathe 
was imputed onely to nimio coitu. 

Fynally, King Henry Vllth of blessed memorie^ 
woM hot by certaine space after the deathe of the 
saide prince, permytte or suffer that the kings high- 
nes shuld injoye the name & tytle of Prince, onely 
for that it was dowbted by such as than was most 
abowte the queue whether she was conceaved wjrtih 
chylde or noo. And therefore these presumptions 
beinge of suche sorte & nature, my lords grace said, 
the queue shuld do lyke neyther wyse ne vartuouse 
iady to adhere partinacely to the contrarie. 

To ttte secohde his grace replied, saying that if 
she shuld refuse and decline the judgment of those 
parsons unto whome the pope's holiness had dele- 
gated the examination of this cause, ^e shuld not 
do well, butt so doing rather incurr the indignacyon 
of the see apostolique, desenre the obloque & hatred 
of all good chossin people 8c ingenerate in there 
hartes a perpetuall hate & ^unitie against her. For 
sythe the popes holines proceadythe in thys com^ 


mydsyon at the intercession or motion of no partie, 
but onely ex mero moiu poMtoraU officio, & sith that 
bis bolines notwithstanding be being notoriously cer- 
tyfied that they be the kings subjects, & benefyced 
within his reabne bathe approyed there parsons as 
nioost mete and worthie to haye the hole dedsion of 
this cawse commjrtted unto them: with that also 
theire parsons be qnalyfyed with so hyghe preemy- 
nence & dignitie, as by the common lawe cannot be 
refused as suspect. Fynallie sythe the same par- 
sons being straitly commanded by the king's hygh- 
nes, all affection of mede or drede set apart, onely 
to attend, waye, regard & consjrder the justyce of 
the cawse as they shall theranto answere on perell 
of there owne sowles & his dreadiull indignacion, 
have no cawse which thei shuld varye or deflect 
their sentence otherwyse than justyce shall require, 
specially in a cawse of suche wayght & importance, 
& wherin they for unrighteouse judgement shuld 
acquire nothing els but theire owne dampnation,eter- 
nan ignominie & indignation of theire prince: yf she 
shuld refuse suche parsons as suspect, it might well 
be saide that she geveth tytles honour to the aucto^ 
ritie of the churche, & that this realme were marye«> 
louslie desty tute of men of sincere leamyng & con* 
science, to the great slaunder of the same. 
And fynally bis grace said^ that yf this exception 



shnld be admjrtted as sufiycyent cawse of recusation, 
for that they be benefyced by the kings hyghnes, 
than this cawse of matrymonie myght nowhere be 
ventylated or dyscnssed within Christindone, for that 
there are no parsons of auctorite fie lemyng in any 
regyoii out of this reafane, againe whome the king's 
highnes might not alleadge, in lyke manner, lyke cawse 
of recusation & suspicion. The pope's holines & the 
holle clargie of Ytallie, Flaunders, Spaine, Denmarke 
fie Scotlande, being now eyther confederate or in 
thraldome & captivitie of the emperor's tyranny. 

To the third, concerning counsaillors to be re- 
tained on her behalf, my lords grace saide, that al- 
though he was ryght well assured of the kings sin- 
guler propencyon & inclination to justyce, & that 
above all things his pleasour was justyce shuld be 
equally mynistred to eyther parte in this cawse, 
being also never wylling or in mynde at any tyme, 
but that she shuld have aide and assistance of so 
well lemed men, so wyse, and of so good conscience, 
as might any be founde within this realme: yet his 
grace thought that consydering the nature of t&is 
cawse to be of suche sorte, as necessarily impliethe 
the hole tytle of succession of this realme, lyke as 
yt were not expedyent, ne myght in any wyse be 
sufired witbowt great dangier & perell which might 
therby ensue, to maike any aliene or strannger pre- 


vie heronto, specially the Spaniards haying now 
intelligence with the King of Scotts; So his grace 
thought that the qnene wold not insyst in so fryvo- 
lous petition, which might never be graunted unto 
her, but be content to admytt and adhybyt suche 
lemed men as be here in this region her counsaillors, 
namely suche as by theire othes solempnly maide & 
vowed, 8c by expresse commandement et optima gratia 
of the king's highnes, shuld withowt frawde or cor- 
ruption shew unto her theire sentence and openions: 
and desyring the contrarie hereof his. grace said she 
shuld doe nothing but declare her owne sensuall 
affection to sett forthe that whiche, all due prouf, 
bothe by Grods lawe & mans law hath justly con- 
demned. And thus ended my lords graces talke with 
M' Almoner. 

\* Robert ShortonS. T. P. then master of Pem- 
broke Hall and canon of Windsor was almoner to 
the queen, preferred by her to the deanery of Stoke 
Suffolk, the same that was intemuncius ccurdinali' 
de evocandis viris doctis Cantabrigia Oxoniam, and 
sometime dean of the cardinal's chapel. 


Itinerary of Cardinal Wolseys last Journey Northward^ 

HJ2 set out from Bichmoiid at the Ngiiiiiiiig of Pa»« 
aion Week^ bot we know not on what ^ecise day« 
The fii^t days joorne jr was to Hendon in Middlesei^^ 
where he lodged for the night at the boose ^ the 
abbot of Westminster. 

The next day he removed to a place called the 
Bye» the abode of the Lady Parry. 

The third day to Royston, where he lodged in tiie 

The fourth day to Huntingdon, where be sojoimed 
for the night in the abbey. 

On Palm Sunday he reached the Abbey of Peter- 
b0r<Migb» wUch he made his abode until the Thursday 
in Easter week* his train for the most part being at 
board wageis in the town. Here be celebrated Palm 
Swadny, going with tiie monkis in procession^ and 
bearmg his palm with great humility. He kept his 
Maunday on Ae Tbui^ay so muuedj with the i^c^ 
customed ceremonies and bounties to the poor. On 
Easter Sunday he also went in procession in his 
cardinal's habit^ and performed the service of high 
mass very devoutiy. 


From Peterborough he went to visit his old friend 
Sir William Fitzwilliams^ about four miles from 
thence, who receired him with great joy and hospi- 
tality. He went there on Thursday in Easter, week 
and remained until the Monday following, on which 
day he went to Stamford and lay there that night 

On Tuesday he went to Grantham, where he lodged 
in the house ojf a gentleman named Hall. 

On Wedpesday he removed to Newark, whefe he 
rested in the castle. 

On Thursday to Southwell, where was a palace 
belonging to his see of York, but this being out of 
repair he was lodged in the house of one of the pre- 
bend^. At Whitsuntide he removed into the palace, 
keeping ^ noble table, where he was visited by the 
chief persons of the country. 

At the latter end of grease time he removed to 
Scroby^ another house belonging to his see of York, 
being as mudi regretted at Southwell fu^ he was 
greeted at Scroby. In his way to Soroby he took 
Welbeck or Newsted Abbey, from thence to Rufford 
Abbey to dinner, and slept at Blythe Abbey> reach- 
ing Scroby (m the following day, where he remained 
until Michaelmas. 

About Michaelmas day he removed to his seat of 
CawQod Gastle, twelve miles (said by Cavendish .to 
be only seven) from York, and in his way tUtber he 

29ft wolsby's la6t journbv. 

lay two nights aad a day at St. Oswald's Abbey, 
where he held a confirmatioii. He lay at Cawood 
long after, says Cavendish, with mnch honour. 

His. dergy here waited upon him to take order for 
his inthronization, which he seems to have desired 
should be conducted with as Uttle pomp as possible. 
The ceremony was fixed to tajke place on the Mon- 
day after All Hallown Tide, but he was arrested on 
the Friday before (fourth of November) at Cawood, 
by the Earl of Northumberland and Mr. Welsh. 

They left Cawood with him in custody on Sunday 
the sixth. The first night he was lodged in the 
Abbey of Pomfiret 

The next day \T^] they removed to Doncaster. 

The third day \e^] to Sheffield Park, a seat of the 

Earl of Shrewsbury (afterwards appointed by Queen 

Elizabeth for the meeting of her and Mary Queen of 

Scots, which never took place), where he continaed 

eighteen days, being there seized with the ffux. Here 

Sir William Kingston the Constable of the Tower 

came to take charge of his person, and on Thursday 

the twenty-fourth of November they set forward, the 

cardinal hardly able to sit upright on his mule^ 
They passed the night at Hardwicke upon line in 
Nottinghamshire. (See note on the Life, p. 811.) 

On Friday the twenty-fifth they rode to Notting- 
ham, and lodged there that night. 

Wolsby's last journby. 897 

On Saturday liiQ twenty-sixth at nighty they reaohed 
Leicester Abbey ; he had many times like to have 
fallen from his mule by the way; telling the abbot as 
he entered he had come to. lay his bones amoi\g them. 
He gradually becieuaie worse, and died at eight o'clock 
in the morning of Tuesday November the twenty-* 

Beside the iokmn nuus performed hy Cardinal Wolsey upon the ra- 
tification of peace between the Freitch and English hings, which is 
described at p. 126 of the Life, he officiated at another great cere- 
monsf <f thanksgiving upon occasion of the Pope*s deliverance from 
captivity. The particulars of which are preserved in the archives of 
the Herald* s College in an ancient book written by Thomas Walle, 
Windsor Herald, and pMished by Dr. Fiddes at p. 179 rf his 
Collections. For the convenience of the reader who may not possess 
Dr. Fiddes* s Life of Wolsey, I have thought it desirable to place 
this curious relation in my Appendix. 

The Comming and Resting of the Lord Cardinall intoi 
Powlesfor the Escaping of Pope Clement VII. A. D, 
1527. A*^ Regni Henrici VIII. xix"'. 

Mbmorandum that the fifth day of January beyng 
Sunday even in the year aforesaid^ the Lord Thomas 
Wdcy Cardinall of Yorke &c. landyd betweene 
eight of the docke and nyne in the moniinge at the 


Black fryars at hondim, with great company of' 
noblemen and gentlemen^ where met with him &e 
Embasdadours of the Pope, of the Empenmr, the 
Frenehe kinge, of V^se, of Florence, of Millain* 
ibid so procedyd on horseback nnto Powles chnrch 
dore, wh»e they did alight And ther the officers 
of aimes longing nnto the king gave there theire at- 
tendance, and at his alighting put on there sootes of 
armes. And here was also foure of the doctors, pre- 
bendarys of the sayd Powles, in copes and grey amys^ 
which bare a rich canape over him of cloth of gonld. 
And so the lord cardinal! procedyd, havyng them- 
p^onrs embassadoor on his right hand, and the 
Frenehe kinges [embassadour] on his lifte hand, untill 
be came to th« arches where was prepaiod a bank 
with qnyshions and carpets, where the said Lord 
kneled, and there mete him, in Pontificalibns, tte 
Bushop of London, the Bushop of St. Asse [Asaph] 
which censyd him: And the Bnshop of Lincoln, the 
Bushop of Bath, the Bushop of Llandaff, the Lord 
Priour of Westm', the Priour of St Saviours, th 
Abbots of Stratford, and of Towerhill, the Priour 
of Christ-churche, of St Mary Spytell, with other to 
the some of xyi miters, And so tti? prppessifi^ ^f 
^e hojf qwyer proo^y4 foujrtli^ hftyyug i^duai^tmm^ 
dour^ with h|ip w afore, up to ^e qimti ^^ 9P ty^ 
tfefc fcigh 9^&, yrl^9, }m oWation 4gpn, hp wem 


with Jbim into Ida txarerB, end dimnge Hmt tb^ 
howre was a singing be was rtveatyd in Pontifioa'. 
lilMU, and Hien he with all the other prelQ^t^i thQ 
qoiere of Powles and his hole quiere, with hiei suit 
of rich copes, went in procession withifi the ^aidt 
church, tho officers of arms ahout himj. and next 
after him thembasisadours, and then the Mayor pS 
London, and the other estates and gentlemen, with 
the alderman of the cittie. 

The procession doon, the Masse of the Trinity 
was begiui> songen by the Byehop of liopdon; the 
Prionr of St Mary S|ntteU Gospeller; the Prionr of 
Christ Chnreh Pistoler. The nmsfiie dpon the 1<^4 
cardinal! with the oth^ ^^latss went nnio the quyef 
dore, where Doctor Capon declaryd the calamities, 
miseries, and the opprobrious deeds and works, with 
the great snfiiance that gmi mother the 9oly Chnrcho 
hath suffryd, not allonly by the Lutherian soarte, 
which was lyke to have sortyd to an ungracious 
effecte; but also now of late of the gi^eat n»happy 
delings of the Paynymes> and violators of our Chris- 
tien faith, the men of warr belonging to the ^nperor. 
In the ^rrowfol destruction of Rome, where they, 
like miscreant?; nothing regarding nother God nor 
shame, viplentlye took^ and by force imprisoned our 
Holy Father the Pope, the which now of late by 
the helpe of our Lord God, which se his churche in 


p^'dicion^ did rdeive hit againe; insomuch that our- 
said Holy Father is escapyd their hands, wherfore the 
Lord Legats grace by the kings commandement hath 
here caused as this day, this noble assemble to be 
had, to the end that lauds praysings. and coi^[ra- 
tulations might be gyven by all true Christien peo- 
ple unto Almighty God, and the hole company of 

And thus doing, the said Idrd cardinal! did give 
his benediction to all the people* Which Doctor 
Capon sayd, much more than I can reherse, and this 
doon the sayd lord retoumyd to the aultier wher the 
lord cardinal began TeDeum, the which was solempnly 
songen with the kingis trmnpetts and shalmes, as 
well Inglishmen as Yenysians, which doon every 
man repayred home. And the Lord Legut Cardinall 
went to his place to dynner, and the embassadours 
with him. 

Copied out of an ancient book writteri by Thomas WaUe 
Windsore, and afterwards Garter, folio 126. Exa- 





The. Ceremonial of receiving the Cardinal's Hat sent by 
the Pope to Wolsey. Extracted from a MS. in the 
Herald's Office. Ceremon. vol. 3. p. 219, 

[from fiddes' collections, see cavendish, vol. i. p. 29.] 

In the yeare of our Lord 1515, the 15"* daie of 
November, being Thursdaie and the seaventh yeare 
of our sovereigne lord King Henry the Eight, the 
said prothonitary entered into London, which before 
according was mett bothe at the sea side, likewise 
at Canterbury and at Rochester with the bishop of 
the same, and at Black Heath theare mett with 
him the Reverend Father in God the Bishop of Lin- 
colne, the Earle of Essex, and many other gent, of 
great honour, both spiritual and temporal, and soe 
proceeded through London, the Bishop of Lincolne 
ridinge on the right hand [of] the said prothonitary 
and the Earle of Essex on his left hand, having with 
them sixe horses or above, and they all well beseem*- 
ing and keeping a good order in their proceeding. 
The ]liIaior of London with the aldermen on horse 
back in Cheapside, and the crafte stoode in the 
streets after there custome: and when tlie said Hatt 
was comen to the Abbey of Westminster, wheare at 
the north door of the same was redie th Abbot and 
eight abbotts besides him, all in pontificalibus, and 
honorabilie received it; and in like sort the same 
conveied to the high alter, whearuppon it was sett. 
The Snndaie next following, the eightenth daie, the 
most Reverend Father in God my Lord Cardinal, well 
accompanied with noble and gentlemen, both spiri- 
tual and temporal, being on horseback, as knights, 
barons, bishops, earles, dukes, and arch-bishops, aU 


in due order proceeded from his place betwixt eight 
and nyne of the clocke to the abbey; and at the dore 
beforesaid^ his grace with alt the noble men de- 
scended from their horses and went to the high alter, 
wheare on the south side was ordeyned a goodlie 
trayers from my Lord Cardinal, and when his grace 
was comen into it, imediatelie began the Masse of 
the Holy^ Ghost, songen by the Arch-bishop of Can- 
terbury, the Bishop of Lincoln Gospeller, and the 
Bishop of Excester Epistoler, th Arch Bishops of 
Armachan and Dublyn, the Bishops of Winches- 
ter, Duresme, Norwiche, Ely, and Landaffe, and yiii 
abbotts, ad of Westminster, Saint Albans, Bury, 
Glastonbury, Reading, Glocestre, Winche-Combe, 
Tewkesbury, and the Prior of Coventrie, all in ponti- 
ficalibus. The Bishop of Rochester was crosier to 
my Lord of Canterbury during the mass. M' Doctor 
Collet, Deane of Powles, made a brief collation or 
proposition, in which especially he touched thre 
things. That is to witt, the name of a cardinal, and 
wheareof it is said, alsoe the highe honour and dig* 
nitie of the same, and as keeping the articles due 
and belonging to it, and by what meanes he obtained 
to this high honour chieffie, as by his own merits, 
theare naminge divers and sundrie yertues that he 
hath used, which have been the cause of hia high and 
joyous promotion to all the realme. The second 
cause of his promotion was through our sovereigne 
lord the king, for the greate sseale and fayour that our 
holy father the pope hath to his grace. The second 
thing, is touching the dignitie of a prince' as haying 
power judicial. The third, of a bishop signifying 
both the old and newe lawe, and hayinge the power 
of them, and also the highe and great power of a 
cardinal, and howe he betokeneth the free beames of 
wisdome and charitie, which the apostles receiyed of 


the fiolle Ghoste on Wbitsandaie^ and a cardinal re* 
ptesenteth the order of seraphin^ which contimtally 
brenneth in the love of the glorions Trinity; and for 
thies considerations a cardinal is onelie apparrelled 
with redd, which coUour onelie betokeneth noble- 
ness; and howe these three estates before named be 
collocated and placed in heaven, also he exhorteth 
theare my lord cardinal, saying to him in this wise: 
Non magnitudo superbum extollat nobilitatissimum hono^ 
risq; dignitate. But remember that our Saviour in his 
owne person said to his disciples, "Son veni minulrari^ 
sed ministrare; 8^ qui minor inter vos hie maior regno 
Celorum, et qui se exaltat humiliabilitury 8^ qui se humiliat 
exaltabitur; my lord cardinal, be glad and enforce 
your selfe always to doe and execute righteousness 
to riche and poore, and mercy with truth; and desired 
all people to praie for him that he might the rather 
observe these poynts, and in accomplishinge the 
same what his reward shall be in the Kingdom of 
Heaven; and so ended. The Bull was read by Doctor 
Vecy, Deane of the King's Chappell, and Excestre, 
and at Agnus Dei came forth of his travers my Lord 
Cardinal and kneeled before the middle of the high 
alter, wheare for a certayne tjrme he laye gravelling, his 
hood over his head, during benedictions and prayers, 
concerning the high Creation of a Cardinal, said over 
him by the Right Reverend Father in God the Arch- 
Bishop of Canterburie, which alsoe sett the hatt uppon 
his head. Then Te Deum was sung. All service and 
ceremonies finished, my Lord came to the doore be- 
fore-named, led by the Dukes of Norffolk and Suflfolk, 
where his grace with all the noble men ascended 
uppon their horses, and in good order proceeded to 
his place by Charing Crosse, next before him the 
crosse, preceeding it the mace such as belongeth a 
cardinal to have, and then my Lord of Canterbury, 


hayinge no crosse borne before him, with the Bishop 
of Winchester, before them the Duke of Norffblk and 
and Suffolk together, and in like order the residue 
of the noblemen, as the Bishop of Durham with 
the Popes Orator, then the Marquess Dorsett with 
the Earle of Surrey, the Earle of Shrewsburie, the 
Earle of Essex, the Earle of Wiltshire, the Earle of 
Derby, the Lord of St Johns, the Lord Fitzwater, 
the Ix)rd of Burgaveny, the Lord Dawbeny, the 
Ix>rd Willoughby, the Ix>rd Hastings, the Lord 
Ferrers, the Lord Lattimer, the Lord Cobham, and 
the Lord Darcey, Sir Henry Mamey, Sir John Peche, 
Sir Thomas a Parr, Sir Nicholas Vaux, and so all 
other Banneretts, Knyghts, and Gentlemen before, 
after their degrees, and following his grace the Arch^ 
bishop of Armachan and Dublyn, the Bishops of 
Lincolne and Norwiche, Excestre, Ely, and Bochesr 
ter, and the ^ after them, my Lords Car- 
dinals place, being well sorted in every behalfe, and 
used with goodlie order, the hall and chambers gar- 
nished very sumptuouslie with riche arras, a great 
feast kept as to suche a highe and honourable crea- 
tion belongeth. At the which were the King & 
Queene and the French Queene, with all the noble- 
men above specified, alsoe present at the creation 
the Lord Fineaux, the Lord Read, the Barons of the 
Exchequer, with other Judges and Serjeants at Law* 


C. WhitOngfaain, College House, Gfaiswick.